Endgame
by TerRaine and Sloth
Summary: The gods of the worlds have little time to bother with humanity, even when mistakes have been made. Something Dark this way comes. The warnings of a strange girl are all the Titans have to prevent the annihilation at hand. Legendmaker-verse
1. Chapter 1

'Lo friendly readers! You may notice there's something different to chapter 1 if you have been following along. After doing a quick re-read, and from some of the comments I've gotten, I noticed that it needed a bit of a touch up along with some of the other chapters. So here is chapter 1 with actual editing *cue awe and amazement*, some added scenery, and some rearrangement. The chapters that follow shall be edited over the next few days and/or weeks.

For those just joining us? Well, you may notice some new faces amongst the old. This story takes place within one of the many alternate worlds featuring the characters and happenings that started with Legendmaker's Black and White and continued though its sequels and the works of the various other authors of the 'Legendsverse.' If you have not read these? I HIGHLY recommend it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything beside this plot, Ryce, and my interpretation of Azrael. The rest are copyrighted to DC and to the magnificent authors of the Legendsverse. The later being namely Legendmaker, Jedi-and, Bobcat, and Slothsoul, who have allowed me to play with their various characters and ideas.

* * *

_This…this is odd._

He sat within the darkness, just outside the realm from which both of his lives had come into being; staring without eyes at what had torn its way into his solitude. He had felt it coming, had heard the screams ripping themselves through the tear from which the mass of flesh and limb birthed from. Annoyance and an immediate desire to squelch the gasping whistling sobs emerging from it had given away in a wave of patience. After all, the void would render it incoherent and inconsequential. An unfortunate human pest, its screams would match those that followed it and then its body would turn merciless on itself. A final act of self devouring and then the silence and peace would return. He had far greater things to consider than the closing seconds of one of these animal's lives.

Normally, this Darkness would not concern himself with the trivial things whispered within the black. But somewhere along the line, the hissing had wormed its way into his ear. In the passing weeks he had heard whispers between the worlds…rumors of rumors…something was coming, the dark hissed…something that could very well wreck all that he had strived for. His plans for naught, his purpose in this world unfulfilled. No lost and broken human should draw his thoughts away and soon enough this distraction would cease. So he waited.

Seconds whirled by. And then minutes. Still no anguished scream erupted from it…no nonsensical sound as the darkness…_his_ darkness, as was all darkness…permeated flesh and heart and mind. All that came was the slowly steadying gasp of its rattling lungs…the frantic thudding and thrumming of its labored heart…the dry, shifting sound as limbs twisted and bent forcing themselves to support the body again. The void was not meant for her kind…and yet she stood.

This did not bode well with the Dark.

* * *

Her eyes were shut tight…skewered closed in a grimace of tired anguish. The girl – and for all appearance that was all yet she was – blocked out her sight, not against the world, but the very lack there of around her. Even here, in this endless silent void, she could hear it…could feel a reality just beyond her grasp tearing itself apart at the seams. The sound carried and followed her, reaching out like clawing branches from all sides. There was little time left for them, now.

This was not her first time hearing the laughter and tears, screaming and whispers. All swirled round the drain, unknown to them that all life was about to be awash in a split second…unknown were the tiny fissures making their way up the dam. Fissures that would become cracks…and then holes…and then nothing as the waters flooded out.

She was praying, now. Praying that this time would be her last time, watching helplessly from behind a pane of glass. In the end though, logic reigns and logic sat back with a resigned shrug of its metaphorical shoulders as its nonexistent fingertips picked in boredom at the fraying edges of her mind. _You lose,_ it said, _fun is fun but done is done, move on to the next customer._ She knew she had failed. The autopilot cannibalism that had been engaged beyond the dark too far gone to reverse. She knew this…she understood this simple fact that nothing else could be done. After so many times, she knew there was no point left in fighting.

"We have to go back," came her raw, cracking voice.

Within the vacuum between these worlds, her voice echoed into the silent black around her. It was not shadow, that was too simple a term: It was a living breathing dark, which for all its silence, pulsed and screamed in its own horrid way. Her voice carried – there being no reason it should – the hollow desperation in it magnified by the emptiness. It was a plea – it seemed – to no one and for a moment the thing that lay in quiet wait thought she was addressing him.

And then another arrived, standing proudly and entering seamlessly where its companion had fallen over onto itself. That pathetic begging had been for his ears, the Dark saw. They still remained ignorant to the fact that they were being observed. The Dark One listened with patience to this rare break within the abyss. The girl was flesh, blood, and bone…a mortal that traipsed through the void without paying the price of her sanity. There was something more, he knew, something he was not seeing. For all her gifts and strange talents, though, he could see that her desperation had all but blinded her to the voyeur that watched her exchange.

The companion looked down at his charge, his voice a smooth rumble, "No…we do not"

"We can still save them."

"No…we cannot."

The guardian's voice was impassive…and even with her eyes shut so tight, she knew the look he was sending her way. The detest and loathing he had for this cause had never shocked her really. Yet, despite all she knew and understood about the creature who guarded her, it didn't matter. What mattered lay beyond this place, flickering where the dark seemed thinnest, as if one could punch their fist right through it and into the world beyond. What mattered were the screams that were slowly growing weaker as that darkness thickened once more.

In her head all the sirens shrieked out their warnings, her lungs gasped and pulsed, begging for air they could not reach. Logic sat up straight and snarled at her to grip herself and brace her body for the storm about to hit in the coming hour. It. Did. Not. Matter. Her eyes snapped open in the dark. Instead?

Instead, she screamed.

"Please! God damn it, please! We can help them! I can still help them! **LET ME SAVE THEM**!"

The calm and desperate plea from earlier was gone as hysteria climbed into her shrieks. The guardian had given her his back now. Her pleas fell upon his deaf ears as the Dark drew back ever so slightly, as if disturbed by her outburst. Sobs and curses ripped up out of her and when that brought her nothing, her frail human body flung itself at the façade that guard wore.

Then, as Darkness's eyes stared on, she began to change…and in an instant he saw that which lay behind her human's face, as much of a mask as her Guardian's. The Dark knew who this creature was and what her presence meant to his plans. His previous anger at her trespass flared, as what could almost be akin to panic flickered within him. Time was up and considerations be damned…The rumor was coming.

He struck out at them, just as the screams of the other world ceased, as if cut off in the dark by a knife.

* * *

Frankie Anders had pretty much always been good at only one thing in his life.

Born and raised in Jump, his father had left before Frankie had quite grasped the concept of life without a diaper. The woman and 4 kids he left behind, lived in government sponsored housing…each week an argument over what their welfare check went towards. It wasn't that his mother couldn't work…but why bother when someone else was willing to foot the bill? Why raise the mess of children she had brought into the world when they pretty much took care of themselves? Ms. Anders had perfected her system by cheating The System that so many others grinded themselves down escaping. The life of a leech may not have been glamorous…it may stain the names of all those others who do not try and bleed the hand that helps them up dry…but that was not her problem.

With such wastes as parents it was no wonder the seventeen year old had all the motivation of a couch cushion. There was just enough drive to roll his stocky frame out of bed in the morning and into a pair of pants before he strolled down to the corner. Here Frankie could be the one thing he was good at…the only thing he wanted from life.

The group he hung out with always was changing it seemed. But Frankie knew the core and heart remained the same. Same shit, different day. Even if the faces around him shifted, there were still the one that remained and to this he pledged himself. Frankie was above all else a sheep, albeit one who more resembled a slightly overweight rat with his pinch features and beady eyes . A follower. A lackey. This was the life he was choosing, this was all he wanted. Why make decisions that others can make for you? And the biggest and baddest among them, a brick shit house by the name of Carlos, had no problem making those decision for him.

Eat here. Dress this way. Stand there. Sell the shit there. Pass that rock here.

Each order and command was fulfilled without question, without even a hint of hesitation. Even if Frankie knew some of this was so very wrong. Even though he knew what holding up that little Korean man's market had done to him. Even though his stomach cramped when the bright florescent lights gleamed off the edge of the pipe he had used to knock the man right off his stool. Even if he still had nightmares about how the seventy year old man had tried so desperately to just crawl away, feeble fingers reaching weakly for his glasses. Both the glasses and the frail hand reaching for them crunching like a cockroach under Carlos's heavy boots as they took off with a meager $526. He knew these things, but who was he to bring it up to Carlos? Carlos could (and undoubtedly would) rip him in half. No, let Carlos do the thinking…let him be the brains…he'd just be the third hand and fourth hand.

The best thing about hands? Hands acted…they molded and worked and sure, maybe they bled. But the one thing hands didn't do? They didn't answer questions. That was for the mouth and the head, and that was Carlos. The mouth and the head that grinned with oily slickness at the unusually garbed group of people before them as the large, barrel chested man ran a hand over the cleanly shaven top of his skull. It was late…or early depending on your perspective. By now the rest of Carlos's group had fluttered away leaving behind the core…the Shepard and his rodent featured sheep. A man, older than Frankie, but probably on par with Carlos, glared back at the two. The narrowing eyes were hidden by his mask as it began to furrow at its center.

"You freaks want sumthin?" Carlos asked, tilting his head mockingly at the group in front of him. Standing a step or so behind him, Frankie's eyes widened a bit in fear at his "friend's" bravado. If one were to ask him – though really no one ever would – Frankie was more inclined to refer to that boldness as a death wish, especially taunting this particular guy. Perhaps once upon a time, this man had been the young, foolish, hotpants-wearing ward of Gotham's Knight, but that was a long time ago. No...in the end, the very last thing Frankie Anders felt like doing was going toe to toe with one, famed guardian of Jump City, Robin.

With a jittery and nervous glance up, he stuttered out, "Carlos, don't man. That's-"

"Shut up," was the silky reply snapped back at him.

"A little late to be out and wandering the streets wouldn't you say?" came a voice from the masked man's right. A heavyset woman stepped into the street light to stand beside the easily recognized brightly garbed man. The only distinguishing feature beside her body type was her brown hair, as it was the only thing above her neck not obscured from sight by her own grey mask. This one Frankie could not place a name with, though he had seen her time and time again on the television beside her teammates. All he knew is that she was one of the more recent recruits to the team, actually the newest, but that really did not matter one way or the other to the two.

The sly, cunning gleam in Carlos's eyes darkened as she spoke, his attention now snapping to her. Lip curling up into a scowl, her leered at her, mud brown eyes traveling up and down in apparent disgust, "Who the fuck asked you? Fat, stupid bitch."

A rumbling growl grumbled out from the dark behind the two Titans, sending goose flesh up the younger delinquent's back. He was struck, for a moment, with a vision of a much younger version of himself peaking out from under the covers at the crack-opened closet door, waiting for the boogeyman to spring out with hooked slimy hands. The childish fear doubled when from the darkness, on Robin's other side, a shadow shifted and seemed to grow with that growl. Within seconds that form padded slowly forward into the light to show a large, green Bengal tiger, its mouth agape, ever so slightly, to showcase long white fangs.

_Oh man we're gonna die,_ Frankie's mind came to grasp. Weeks of low scale petty crime, a few assaults and possessions here and there, and they were going to die all because Carlos decided to mouth off to a god damn tiger.

"B…let it go," the heavier female meta said, cutting off all thought of his impending doom. The tiger glanced up at the woman, seeming to give a nod. In an instant the large cat was gone, in its place stood a youthful man clad in white, black, and purple starkly contrasting against the green that was the rest of his body. Beast Boy, Frankie's mind indentified numbly. Also identified? The need to get out of there. Now.

"Carlos let's go man."

A cool look made Frankie flinch back once more as Carlos shrugged, back to grinning arrogantly at the costumed group before him.

"We aint doing nothin'. It's a free fuckin' country. Right to life, liberty and the pursuit of walking down the street without some little fag in a costume hanging on my nuts about it," he gave a humorless and nasty laugh as he sauntered up to Robin, "Maybe you all should be the one's who get off OUR street."

Frankie's innards cramped up hard into steel, before feeling as if they had simply been liquefied. Over the past few weeks, his "friend" had been getting progressively worse. Each passing day, each low scale and yet exceedingly violent crime, inflating his ego further. Normally, this arrogance and blind pride would have been something for Frankie to observe in silent and envious awe. The way the large man carried himself with that swagger to his step, or how he sneered at a cop passing by and called him a 'pig.' God, Frankie respected that in him. But this was different. This was not fun any more. The little, husky thug did not voice it, but there was testosterone fueled bravado and then there was gassing up a tank and trying to stop it with your god damned hands.

Green eyes narrowing into disbelieving slits, Beast Boy stepped forward a bit towards his teammate and Carlos, "Dude, I don't know what your malfunction is but you need to back off or…"

"Or _**what**_? I ain't done nuttin. You freaks are the ones harassin'me…go ahead you little green shit and see what happens when you go after an unarmed civilian," Carlos's grin had twisted up further on his face as he looked down at the shorter Titan in dark glee, "That is 'less you all are here for little ol'_**me**_."

"Please…don't flatter yourself," a new voice came from behind the two delinquents, causing them both to turn. Carlos moved like a snake…Frankie stumbled with the blind panic of a startled roach. Carlos smirked at the black man…Frankie tried not to tremble as he eyed the cybernetics that made up a majority of this guy's body. How many times had Frankie passed a news program over the years to see the Titan, "Cyborg," produce a cannon out of one of those arms? A cannon that laid waste to chunks of city street. Foolishly, he imagined what one of those cannons could do to, say, his face. Victor 'Cyborg' Stone took little notice of his whimper, his eyes resting only on Carlos.

"This is a bad area…and you are asking for trouble from the wrong people. Go. Home. We ain't asking," Cyborg said to the larger of the two coolly. Frankie's glittering, and watery eyes flicked from man to man, waiting to see what Carlos would do. Breath held. Instantly, a horrid image of Carlos's fist pulling back and rocketing forward into the Titan's face filled Frankie's mind. The resulting beat-down they would be getting for it.

Carlos just smiled.

"Let's go, Frankie."

Relief…sweet, cool, and intestine-loosening, relief. Frankie did not need to be, nor did he wait to be, told twice. Instantly, he began to scamper – it was the only word for it – away and up the block, following Carlos in blind devotion. The Titans that remained behind watched in silent annoyance.

"What a dick," Garfield 'Beast Boy' Logan muttered, shaking his head in disgust. No one raised their voice to contradict this assessment. The most response it got, outside the tired nod here and there, was a sigh falling from Robin's mouth. The Titan lifted his bright yellow COM from his belt to his lips, his masked face sporting a look of resigned annoyance.

"Savior…Raven…check in."

There was a few moments of static-crackling quiet over the COM frequency, before the calm, barely inflected, voice of Raven answered back, "West side appears quiet, Robin. No activity."

As soon as she had finished, another – clearly male voice – echoed her assessment, "East side's clear as well…unless you count a few middle school kids looking to egg their history teacher's car earlier."

Robin frowned a bit at this, casting a slightly worried glance down at the COM, "What did you do, Savior?"

"…I broke their fingers and made them eat every last egg, shells and all, for their childish insolence," crackled back a mocking voice somewhere on the line.

"Gauntlet, get off the COM," Noel Collins – better known by his not at all pretentious alias, 'Savior' – snapped. Robin rolled his eyes and made to press the transmission button again. Before he could, another voice came out over the speaker, sweet and worried.

"Dearest Robin, we heard Cyborg's transmission of an encounter. You are unhurt?" Starfire asked in genuine concern. In spite of himself, Tim Drake felt his mouth curling up into a soft smile at her worry. "No problems on the South side, Star…some punk kids loitering. We're going to head back now. We'll meet back at the Tower."

Once more the frequency crackled to life, Chuckling in self-amusement, Gauntlet – real name Robert Candide – ignored his often too serious teammate's previous command, "Don't sweat it Tim…I don't think you look like a cigarette…"

Dead silence broke out over both the group present and those elsewhere listening in on the T-COM. Tim gave yet another roll of his eyes when, from his side, Beast Boy stifled a chuckle.

Rob spoke up once more, "...get it? Because fag means…"

"We get it Gauntlet…" Robin sighed, rubbing his temple with one hand in exasperation.

"Well I thought it was funny," Beast Boy said, still snickering as the others set off on their way home once more. From his communicator drawled Raven's perpetually bored and dry voice, "Not exactly a testament to his quality of humor…you still find Saturday Morning cartoons funny…"

"I do not!" Garfield quickly shot back, blushing.

"Yes, because you _never_ wake me up every Saturday Morning at 8 AM sharp laughing at Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles," another woman said, joining the COM banter.

Beast Boy's eyes widened at his girlfriend's – the Titan, Terra – voice, "Tara!"

"How many damn times do I have to say it? No names on the COM!" Noel grumbled back again, though it went largely unheard over the combined laughter of Gauntlet and Cyborg. Clapping a hand on the mortified shifter's shoulder, Victor Stone grinned down at his much shorter friend, "Damn…your girlfriend burned you, man."

Garfield began to sputter indignantly in his humiliation as they continued on home. A typical, though late, night of patrol. Nothing new…

Yet.

* * *

The paper bag covered forty crinkled and tore slightly beneath Frankie's fingertips. They hadn't moved too far, just a block to two away from where the Titans had begun to disperse and head back to their own home. Somewhere along the line, Carlos had drawn the beer from one of the many pockets on his baggy pants, chugging several gulps of it himself before shoving it towards his lackey. A typical winding down to a boring night, outside of their unpleasant chat with their city's defenders. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until, that is, the alleyway beside them lit up in a purple flash.

The sudden light took them both by surprise. The strange glow had drifted out of the alley without warning, a strange crackling sound emitting from the darkness between the two buildings. Instantly, Frankie's instincts screamed to flee once more…the forty was lying smashed on the ground, dropped in his surprise. Its cheap, bitter contents were spreading in a puddle under his shoes. He may have even bolted had Carlos not lifted his hand, preventing his feet from back pedaling out into the street. Carlos wordlessly stepped forward, shoving him back ever so slightly as he made his way into darkness to see exactly what had caused the light. Frankie's feet followed before he even had a chance to tell them no.

"Carlos…wuh-what the fuck was that man? You ever seen sumthing like that? We should probably get out of-"

"Shut up."

The harsh snap was all Frankie's lips needed to stop their rambling. The darkness swallowed first his "friend" and then himself into its embrace. All traces of that strange purple light had faded, leaving nothing but black and the thick, heavy smell of trash. But something else lingered above that sour-sweet stench of decay. A trace of ozone, though neither of the two could have vocalized this realization any further than Frankie's hiss, "It smells like shit down here…Carlos…maybe we should go…I mean we dunno what the fuck that light was and I-"

A queer smile formed on Carlos's face, which Frankie realized with something akin to relief, he could just start to see again as his eyes adjusted to the shadow, "It was a camera…they was taking pictures of her."

Confusion crinkled the smaller younger boy's brow. Pictures? They? Her? He could not begin to understand what it was the larger of the two was talking about. That is until he finally heard the strange gasping above the thundering of his heart in his chest. There, crumpled in a pool of stagnant water, was a girl no older then himself. Shrouded by the dark, it was hard to see her completely, but there was no denying that battered shape. It was a girl and it sounded like she was crying. Standing this close Frankie could see the blood – died black by the darkness – that coated her arms and legs, her face hidden behind ragged blond hair and clenched frightened hands.

Frankie's eyes turned to Carlos to question what he should do and was taken back by the hungry look he saw there. The smirk crawled cruelly across the man's face as he stepped forward slowly, sauntering towards the shivering broken teen laying curled in on herself. A hand was already unhooking his belt, trying to reach the zipper beneath. A pale tongue darter out to lick his lips obscenely.

"Hey there baby…you wan' go 'nother round?"

Now Frankie understood. There was only one explanation; it was not like it was unheard of in the back alleys of streets like this. The girl had to have been…"used" by whoever had been taking those pictures…and when they were done she'd been thrown away into the alley gutter to die or hope that someone would find her and help.

She had been found alright, and Frankie's weak mutter of protest went ignored by Carlos's advancing form. The girl shifted in the shadow, drawing herself back into the dark slightly. A brief glimmer of light from a window above reflected torn clothing that barely clung to her legs before the shadows swallowed her again. For one crazy second, Frankie almost thought that glimpse of clothes looked shredded as if by claws…but that was silly. And her hands, the hands trying to brace her weight as she pulled out of the fetal position resting her frame upon her hip…a trick of the light that they should look so sharp.

"C'mon baby how 'bout a helmet wash?" Carlos purred.

It was as if his words had flown from his mouth and struck her like a slap across the face. Her body had gone rigid; the shallow, troubled breathing halting in its pitches. A low, guttural sound emerged from within this torn and beaten girl, her weight shifting again, form drawing even further back into the dark. Something was not right. Frankie had never been what one could deem a ladies man…but he knew the shape of a woman, knew the folds of her body. There was something else here…something more.

"Carlos…"

By now even Carlos had paused raising a pierced eyebrow up towards his cleanly shaven skull. That soft deep rumbling was getting louder now, vibrating off the brick walls of the alley, vibrating in their very chests. Eyes becoming so adjusted to this lack of light, Frankie kept shaking his head as if to clear his vision of this thing's melting and changing shadow. Now upon her hands and knees, her pale back – lined with the intricate patterns of some tribal tattoo – arched up, something thin and leathery…something else, which shifted softly and dryly like two pillows against each other, stretching up into the black, blocking out the wall behind her. Behind her something snaked and slithered in the dark. Carlos was beginning to backpedal slowly towards him eyes wide in horror, mouth forming no words. They had found no victim…they had found a beast.

Suddenly, its head snapped to the side, a single glowing light glaring at them from the left half of its face. A fang-line mouth opened and from it fell a string of snarls and growls, their meaning unknown; they hurt his head to even hear. How could it make those sounds? Frankie ripped his hands up to his ears trying to block out this thing's wordless voice, but it seemed to bleed through his flesh. Carlos had begun to scream over and over asking what it was. And then in the darkness, amongst the two strange shadows extending away from its back the alleyway became a lit.

Hundred of eyes, their pupils like a cat's staring into them…_knowing _them.

Frankie didn't wait for his orders. For the first time in his sorry life, Frankie lost his ability to follow. He was no longer a sheep. A long piercing scream arose into the night as he turned and fled out unto the street. He didn't wait for Carlos, didn't even look over his shoulder to see his older partner fall over his feet as he attempted to flee this aberration. If he looked back, if he met those hundred of knowing eyes again, he would start screaming. He would start screaming and then he would scream some more, and he would never stop. That's how they would find him, just a drooling, shrieking shell.

Within the alley Carlos had frozen. Fallen unto his stomach, he sobbed and whimpered into the dark, waiting for the feeling of talons ripping into his flesh. Waiting for fangs to tear open his throat. For all his crimes…for all his _sins…_they had sent to him a devil. The gold chain and St. Christopher's medal that hung around his neck was grasped tightly in his hands as he sobbed out what he could remember of the Lord's prayer, praying against all hope that he would be saved after all he had done.

Something gripped the chain, closed around it tightly from behind and ripped it upwards snapping the precious metal and lifting the symbol from his clenched fists. He didn't fight…he let it have it…and sobbed for his life as a clawed foot fell down on one side of his head, the subtle pressure of the other pressing into the groove of his skull and neck.

Sobbing up at it, Carlos begged, "Dios Mio….Please….Please! I'm sorry."

"No, you're not…but you will be one day."

The words it spoke were English now…the voice clearly feminine and seemingly youthful, though strangely sad. But there was something else there…some strange intone. The voice of something very young and at the same time older than ages. Another wail ripped up from his lungs as that foot began to press down on the back if his neck, claws brushing the bared skin in light scratches. Once more the old-young voice spoke, saying one last thing.

"Give me your clothes."

* * *

The two police officers stood dumbfounded. There had been reports of screams heard in the neighborhood. Both had come, guns at the ready dreading what they would find, given the area. What neither expected to see was man in his twenties laying face down in the alleyway. Robbed of his clothing he sat naked in a pool of his own urine, fist clutched tightly over a broken medal and chain. Neither could get him to talk much in any intelligible manner…not understanding his sobs of the dark, of the eyes, and of monsters.

Neither looked up to the sky to see the form watching them, crouched down and small. She was no more than a child herself, a teenager with long blond hair, matted to her head with blood and dirt. A gash across her shoulder ran deep but was caked with clotted blood. It looked almost fresh, and yet no fresh blood streamed from it. A set of eyes, glassy with pain and exhaustion stared down, one blue the other hazed and cloudy. The thug's clothes hung off her thin sickly frame like sacks, but they covered her at least – swallowed her, to be exact.

Her mind swirled and writhed, her ears hearing whispers in the air that did not come from the humans below. It was coming…the rush…she had to get somewhere safe. She staggered away from the buildings edge, chancing a glance to the window of the door that led to the roof on which she stood. The glass reflected back a gaunt and deathly skull, pale bruised flesh pulled tightly across it. A shaky hand, clutching the rags she once wore, rifled through the remains of her clothing. A small white chunk of labeled plastic was shoved into the thug's pocket; a bent pair of glasses were gingerly placed over the pained eyes. Soon now…it would be over soon…like ripping off a band aid. Closing her mismatched eyes a frail hand reached out and pushed open the door. Legs shuffled as she dozed, ambling like the living dead wherever her feet would lead.

It was not long thereafter that she opened her eyes again. Breaking from her trance, she found herself standing at the top of a set of stairs on the streets below. She didn't even remember walking this far…for this long. It had been minutes…or had it been seconds? It could not have been hours…she didn't have time for that and the sky was still dark.

The glassy stare turned to gaze at the graffitied walls of this pathway into the dark mouth of the underground. Beneath the tags and obscene markings was a metal plate drilled and screwed into the cement wall. A white circle with a blue box shape in its center, and beneath this crudely done symbol were 5 letters. Her mind scrambled and pulsed as she tried to focus, tried to remember what this all meant – if only that whispering would stop she could concentrate. The letters blurred and danced before her, making out the first two and then her vision was swallowed in red. A…T…and then an R…Truh…She knew this word…

Train.

She must have done it again…because when she opened her eyes from that pain focused expression she was no long staring down a set of stairs. What they saw now was a black window, flashes of light streaking by, a torn poster advertising some play downtown from 5 years prior. She must have blacked out, again she realized. She was no longer looking into underground, she was in it, sitting rigidly on a bright orange plastic seat.

Beneath, the tracks rumbled, metal screeching, every so often, upon metal. The black outs were coming closer together now. _Soon,_ she thought, hot tears streaming from her eyes as her head thudded and throbbed in great gusts of pain. It felt as if her very skull was being cleaved into two…the whispers rising in volume. Hands lashed out to grip at her sides as she rocked back forth, sobbing alone in the dark subway car. She could feel it building, like some obscene contraction waiting to birth into this world – a terrible, twisted infant. No one was riding the train tonight…she was lucky in that she supposed. Slowly, the tears from that blighted left eyes ran pink…then red…

She began to scream.

* * *

_But all of this…the girl's screams, ripped up and out of her to the dark abandoned car…the Titans and their chat with Frankie and Carlos before they returned home…the way she finally slumped over into a trembling and useless heap of unconscious flesh, the screaming and pain finally ceasing. All of this was yet to come. The dark, vile nothing that was the rumor was not yet breathing down upon Jump City. Before the girl had even taken her first shaky step, which would carry her to that place on the subway, the die had been cast. The result of that cast?_

_Chaos…_

_That was the only word the woman could even imagine to apply to her situation. Complete and utter chaos. Softly, her boots clicked against the marble floor as she made her way through the narrow halls. There was so much to do…so many laying in wait for their judgment. Unrest was beginning to peak amongst the queues in a way she hadn't seen in eons. She had delegated this duty to her "assistant" for exactly this reason that long, long time ago. It allowed her to regulate the input and output so to speak…keep the lines from backing up. She had always trusted the odd being's mind and judgment and after all, she always had the final say for those few decisions they had squabbled over. Efficient and unbiased for millennia, he had stood there making her existence just that tiny bit less hectic. _

_Albeit, that is, until recently. Once, she streamed their "clientele" into him without a single hiccup in their system. One after the other, led unto their final fates, punishment, reward, or perhaps even further trial. Now though? Now, more and more it appeared that while input was steadily increasing, output was all but at a stand still. Her assistant was becoming lax, it seemed. Lips quirked downwards into a slight frown as she continued on. The dark haired woman knew exactly what reason laid behind the abrupt change in the flow of work._

_The human's death hadn't surprised her. Then again, NO death ever surprised her – that would just be silly. No…she had known her fate long before she even came into this realm. It had been a difficult choice to keep this horrible truth from her aging and lagging assistant when he claimed the pretty little mortal for his own. Before the cause of her death had even been formed, she had seen what awaited the demure creature even if her new husband could not. Such was the folly of love…it blinded one to the black truths just beyond its rosy glasses. For all his years and wisdom, he had not seen what his actions had wrought._

_So, she had allowed him joy…for the first time in centuries reaping that which he had sown, taking responsibility for his actions…and seemingly with interest. A sigh fell from her dark lips tousling a shock of black hair…his joy had made his despair at her death all the more poignant. That had been weeks ago. She had allowed him his grief. She had hoped against hope that the unhinged and broken gleam she had seen in his eyes would fade on its own. It had not …this had to end now…there was too much work to be done to wallow in pity forever._

_She heard her assistant long before her eyes came to see the creature. Even several corridors away, his near shrieking had that wonderful habit of carrying as he laced into whatever it was that had been unfortunate enough to earn his wrath. While she was far from panicked or even really worried, she did speed up her pace slightly, thinking that it would be nice for this to be over with. With each step, the silver ankh around her slim neck bounced against a plain black top._

_By the time she rounded the corner, she was just in time to see a large ornate door slam right into another's face, cutting off the tirade that had been sounding from within. The shut out creature sighed, his shoulders hunching ever so slightly as a series of growls emerged from a maw lined with needl- like teeth. Hands that seemed more talon than flesh clawed menacingly in the air in front of him, as if itching to bury themselves in the oak. The strange language he spoke was unheard by the man beyond the door, but perfectly understood by the woman standing in the shadow behind the creature. Dark threats for what lay within the room. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the pale skin wrinkling with the swirled black marking below her right eye. So already the hatred was flowing…she truly pitied the cause of the human's death._

_"Y'mael…"_

_Voided black eyes ripped away from their glare and fell upon her much smaller form. The talons that tipped its fingers tensed in one last clenching motion before relaxing and sweeping behind its spiked, hunched back. All at once, the loathing fled from its nightmarish features and was replaced with a look of humbled awe. It was a familiar look, one she often received on the occasions she visited. A low bow greeted her as the blank, endless stare swept away from her own gaze. The voice falling from that fanged maw was a great deal different, softer and slyer, than what she had just been hearing._

_"M'Lady…we were not expecting a visit from you today! Father will be most pleased…"_

_She raised a questioning eyebrow at that as she looked beyond the beast to the door behind him, "Hmm…he sounds it…"_

_Respect was overthrown by embarrassment as the demonic-looking thing cast a look over its shoulder at the closed entryway. A bit of worry, just a glimmer in its features, appearing as well. She could see the realization there, knowing that if she had heard its father's bellowing, than it was impossible to have missed its snarled threats._

_"Yes...Father is rather…stressed right now. What with this new… 'distraction'."_

_Muffled from within the room beyond the doors there came a new sound now, a low keening whine. Before Y'mael could stop himself that same dark look flickered briefly across its features as if reflex. In an instant it was gone again, but she had seen it. There no was hiding this thing's hatred…not when it described the source of the sound with such venom in its voice. _

_Nevertheless, it was not her place to address such matters, not her station to deal with the nasty dreams floating behind this creature's eyes. A pale hand reached beyond the beast to rest upon the doorframe, before pushing it open with uncanny strength. The muffled mewling tripled in volume into squalls of gasping shrieks causing the leathery creature to draw back with a hiss. She slipped into the room, snapping the door shut so swiftly that one dark denim clad leg was almost caught in the progress. Doing so effectively prevented one of her assistant's many sons any access to the room and the pathetic wretch screaming within._

_However loud the screeches had been through that tiny crack in the door, they were all but unbearable within the room. Since the beginning of it all, it never ceased to amaze her how something so weak and tiny could emit such an earsplitting noise, as if the world were falling apart around them. Simple things that would eventually be taken for granted set them off into such a hysterical fit. The smallest hunger pain, slightest hint of dampness or cold, a tiny pinch, even a thimble full of fear and loneliness, and they screeched as if seconds away from being collected. For once though, her eyes found that this small one's reaction was not quite an exaggeration._

_The man appeared to be in his early to mid thirties with hair so black it seemed almost to have a sheen of blue. Normally slicked back above his head, she found it to be mussed into a dull tangle. A single shock of silver hair fell just as messily into his face and eyes. His were eyes that immediately betrayed his youthful appearance, yellowed and ancient as parchment around their deep blue edges. It was saddening to find that the handsome face she knew quite well was pale and haggard, his eyes narrowed into tiny, hateful slits above the dark circles, which had formed beneath them. His expression pinched and furious, like a drawn mask pulled tightly over his skull. _

_Watching in calm quiet, she took in the rest of his appearance. The velvet drape coat he so often sported was thrown haphazardly over a desk chair in a wrinkled scarlet mess. Its black lapels were sticking up and one of them was torn. The clothes he did still wear seemed to be in no better state. The stark white button up was wrinkled beneath the navy blue waistcoat, its top buttons undone, and a black and gold bolo tie limp like a dead snake around its collar. Dangling precariously from the waistcoat's pocket, was a delicate gold watch only kept from shattering on the floor by a thin gold chain. One drainpipe style pant leg was half way up the calf to reveal heinously brightly colored socks above a chunky thick-soled suede shoe. Her normally obsessively well-groomed assistant looked more like a hobo; his laid back and level headed nature replaced by this fury driven lunatic._

_And yet…none of this the most distressing part of her observations. Currently, she found him half bent – his ancient eyes rolling, madly in his head – hovering over a black-laced basinet. From within the cradle came a miserable caterwauling wail of misery. His mouth had stretched open wide, the jaw distended like a snake to reveal a triple set of fangs where a human man's canines would appear. A pointed black tongue poked out to lick the air before him hungrily. Already, she could see his hands – which she had always viewed as slightly feminine – begin to hook into taloned claws. Taloned claws that were slowly reaching into the basinet, their intent clear for its tiny inhabitant._

_A small cough was all she needed to utter and the frustrated snarl fled his face, his slightly demonic features – ironic for an angel she supposed – bleeding away. The madness in his eyes was gone as if it had never even been. In fact, with his head tilted to the side as it was, he looked more akin to a deer facing headlights than any sort of threat. A child with one hand in the cookie jar trying to piece together a reason…any reason really…to explain why whatever he was doing was not quite what it obviously looked like. Mouth working furious to try and form words, the man stuttered. His voice carried a thick British accent, something she never quite understood his possession of._

_"Um…I…that is…I was-"_

_"Just about to devour your newborn, Azrael?" she asked finishing the angel's thought for him._

_His face fell a bit, nearing a petulant sort of pout, "Well…yes. Yes I was."_

_"I'm afraid that the consumption of infants – especially your own – would be ample grounds for dismissal, my dear teddy boy."_

_He straightened away from the basinet, yellowing eyes glancing at it helplessly, shoulders rounded into a defeated slouch. Without any encouragement, the gothic teen crossed the room and swept her arms into the tiny cot. The child was tiny, far smaller than she should have been. The second her hands cradled the small blond head, the pitch of the baby's screams began to fall. Within a minute of being cradled tightly, they had subsided completely, the silence broken by the occasional hiccup or gurgle. Not wet…not cold…not hungry…simply alone and afraid. _I'm sorry to say you will have to get used to those feelings, hun_, __the young woman thought, remembering the hateful stare this infant's sibling had cast in her direction…remembering the look on her own father's face._

_"It disturbs me, Teleute, how easily children take to you…given your position that is," he mumbled dismissively as he tried to straighten his appearance. It was a good show considering how quite insane she knew him to have become in the passing weeks._

_"Now there is a name I haven't heard in awhile…they take to me because they are still young enough to know me, 'Rael…they still remember."_

_He gave a grunt, "Hm…"_

_Azrael had moved away from them both now, hovering over the large intricately carved desk on which a whirlwind of papers and odd little objects rested. Tried as he might to appear to be busy in his scouring over the many documents, she could see those old eyes darting back to glance at them every so often, a protective gleam lurking behind them. The creature was a walking contradiction: one second looking ready to eat the babe, the next glaring at her discretely for holding her. How she wished it to be a benevolent protection._

_"Azrael…"_

_He waved her off focusing on papers she knew he had no interest in, "If this little visit is about that damnable mess on Azarath…I know it has been years, but Juris' judgment is NOT something I will take lightly. Demon spawn or not, that child is an innocent and to try and send her into Limbo simply because of that pain in the ass Trigon…it's beyond despicable…unforgivable…"_

_"Kind of like eating babies?" she interrupted raising a hand to stroke at the little girl's cheek as she gazed blearily up at her._

_"Are you really going to keep harping on th-"_

_And now…now she sighed softly…though it came more like a guillotine onto his head, "She looks like her mother."_

_Silence. It had fallen over them with a nearly audible thud. Something flickered in the angel's eyes, something awful and unspoken. Death could not help but gaze down at the child with pity…oh what dark days still lay ahead._

_She glanced back up at him, eyes fixing upon the being's still and hunched form, his own gaze rested on a single object atop the desks surface. It stuck out oddly amongst the clutter, an oasis of order in chaos. Everywhere else the wooden piece was covered in papers at least an inch thick, strange and unearthly baubles and trinkets cluttering it emitting small flashes and squeals, puffs of acrid smelling smoke. Only here there was no muddle, in its place a halo like clearing of several inches, so that nothing could even threaten to displace the picture inside the frame. _

_Suddenly, he looked so much older. For once, his face was so much closer to the truth than the youthful façade the death god wore day in and day out. A single soft hand reached out to the brush the frame, hands which had controlled the fates of millions of lives, caressing the metal edge as they had once caressed the woman that looked out from within. His mouth opened to speak but no sound fell from his lips, eventually closing in defeat as his eyes shut as if struck. For a moment, even knowing what she knew…knowing the despicable acts those hands would one day wrought against his own pathetically trusting flesh and blood…Death pitied him._

_When his eyes opened once more, he had turned back to her to meet her sympathetic but stern stare, the look of a mother to their disobedient child. It was this expression that forced him to finally look at the room around him, eyes taking in the clutter and disarray. His own clothing, which hung off him so disheveled, the papers and work that lay strewn about, ink stained and ruined. A light finally seemed to click on behind those ancient eyes; eyes that at one time had seemed so sly and astute. Now, for all that ageless wisdom, for the centuries of experiences her Archangel of Death and Judgment had born witness to…he looked like a child learning disappointment and heartache for the first time…and beneath that? He looked utterly insane._

_Before he could completely withdraw into himself, a small squeal ripped up from the bundled infant in the dark haired woman's arms. A hand, which had fingers already showing the faintest hint of nails too long for a human baby, waved up at the air pawing at the dark top and silver ankh that dangled above her. She grappled for the necklace, gaining instead father's attention. Before either the babe or the timeless teenager could react, she had been swept out of one set of arms into another. A single, indignant squawk arose from her tiny chest before her large mismatched eyes rested upon Azrael's face. One eye, the deep-set blue of her father's, the other the hazy color of an overcast day. In an instant she settled and turned her face into his wrinkled shirt, a scrawny fist stuffing itself into her mouth. The sigh sounding from her seemed to say, 'Yes…yes this was a very good place to be.' Her father's eyes did not echo this assessment._

_"You should have told me…that I would have to judge my own wife with one hand and cradle the thing that killed her in the other."_

_Death frowned at his wording, "You blame the girl?"_

"_Did she die giving birth to it?" he responded coolly._

_She watched him for a moment before shaking her head pityingly, "I am not here to serve you Azrael…it would have changed nothing. You've been allowed your grief…"_

_A mirthless grin and chuckle bubbled out of his mouth, "…but there is work to be done? Is that why you are here? I know this…so many decisions to be made…so many…important decisions…"_

_He was trailing away from her again, gaze becoming distant, though this time around for a far different reason. Absently, a hand caressed the child's back through the swaddling blankets. The cooing that emerged sounded almost like a kitten's purr, more traces of her father's heritage. Death knew what lay beneath, the black markings already tattooed into the tender flesh of the child…she knew what would come of Azrael's foolishness and again she felt that surge of sympathy for the unnamed child._

_"Not yet able to stand on her own…not even named…and already her shoulders bear the brunt of your stupidity. She's damaged…the weight of the responsibilities you've thrown on her will drive her insane. She's not built to handle such pain…you should have chosen another."_

_Again, that infuriating dismissive wave, "She's young and she will adjust. Besides whom would you choose might I ask? Which of my other 'lovely' children would you have selected? I am really all ears…"_

_"They are the way they are because of your own actions and no one else's, 'Rael…do not troll for sympathy. You won't find it," she told him, strolling to his desk and continuing, "Speaking of your spawn, I ran into Y'mael on the way in. Your children don't appear to be…joyful over their new sibling."_

_He let out a bark of laughter, making the baby in his arms whimper a bit, "The sole source of their joy stems from the day you come to collect me, dear."_

_The smirk he cast her flickered with a ghost of the macabre humor that so often shimmered in his face. There was a dark truth to this statement, though. However, many children the creature had spawned – and really…given their numbers there was no other word for it – over the centuries, it didn't matter. Each one despised him, their grins and appeasements, a mere pretense as they waited for their old man to die, all scrounging for that distant hope that they may claim his metaphorical throne. Each dreaming that their dark imaginings and fantasies for the human soul would finally be birthed into reality. The few that served him loyally? Their numbers were like spitting into a bucket of water. Eyes cast down again to the only one of Azrael's children she knew him to ever even hold, realizing the fate her father had damned her to._

_"She is too weak Azrael…you and I both see that even now she has one foot in the grave…"_

_"Then until I can fix it… at least she will keep it safe…keep it secret…"_

_He was trailing off that one hand still stroking the child's back. A slip of cloth fell away revealing a tiny pale shoulder, the smallest stretch of flesh of the child's turned back. Intricate black swirled here, the head of a serpent, the flash of an eye. The comforting hand reached out absently to hide this sight from Death's disapproving, Horus marked gaze. _

_No words were exchanged, no more looks were given…he gave her his back and cradling the infant in one hand, he took to his work once more…the queues gave a squeak and a groan before starting up again…_

_Judgment had returned. _

_The Endless slipped out the way she came,, silently. She had known even then that he had no intention of "fixing" anything. Only time would tell what would come of this fool's choice…the better part of two decades. Even then, Death saw it…saw the babe she had just cradled, grown and trembling involuntarily on the subway seat she had passed out upon. _

_As for what she saw beyond that?_

"_God help you child…"_

_

* * *

_

"You damn well better be kidding me."

Her hair hid the blighted – and bloodied – side of her face, falling over so that only her nose and pieces of her left cheek were visible. The one eye visible, her good eye, slowly trailed upwards to stare at the man hovering over her, pulled from her waking dreams of long-forgotten places. A dark uniform, a neat little hat, a look of self-importance that he neither earned nor deserved. The conductor. The tiny well-groomed mustache beneath that upturned nose gave a twitch of disgust and impatience, as if waiting for an answer to whether or not she was indeed kidding him.

She tried to speak, her voice cracking painfully. What came out no more her voice than a screamed raw croak, "Wha' times'it?"

"Get off…right now. This is a train for respectable people. Not a god damned shelter for drugged out, vagrant filth."

Her mind moved sluggishly, as if through molasses, trying to comprehend his words. Was this an answer to her question? What had her question been again? Where was she? Where was her guard? She wanted Xavius…no…Adam…where was Adam? Given time she would have understood the man's words – but for now her mind just rattled endless nonsense.

He didn't give her the chance to return to herself, a tiny manicured hand sweeping her under the elbow and all but dragging her up out of the seat. Pain rang out dully in her shoulder, the deep wound all but shut now. With an unceremonious shove, she was thrown out of the open train doors, stumbling over the gap in-between the train and the platform. Her hands flashed out to catch herself, scrapping smartly on the dirty platform floor. With a tiny ding the doors snapped shut behind her. The train shifted and was off; she gave it no glance, pulling herself with a wince to her feet. Something had gone wrong this time, her mind grasped and she shambled with a limp towards the stairs that would lead her up into the lightening night.

Like before, she moved as if in a dream. Now though, each step brought with it a twinge of pain on her face. Every fall of each foot brought her closer to collapsing, feeling as if shattered glass and hot coals were burning into the very soles of her shredded feet. Her body and mind screamed for the rest they craved –the rest they had just been so rudely robbed of. Clear tears streamed behind the veil of her hair, turning pink again from the dried blood that had been left behind. Exhaustion was devouring her mind; she needed sleep; she needed warmth; she needed…

Any and all thought came crashing down around her as that one good eye glimpsed the dark shape of a building. Her hunched body straightened as if a metal pole had been inserted into her spine, as eyes seemed to flicker ever so slightly with life behind the smudged glass and bent frame.

The building was stationed out away from the city, out on an island to be exact. Without command, her feet began to shuffle again, now with purpose as she eyed that strange shaped tower hungrily. Disbelief etched itself into every crevice of her face: She couldn't be _here_. Couldn't be standing where she was standing, seeing what she was seeing. Every shuffling drag of her feet brought her closer, brought that building into focus. Soon the pavement and cement faded beneath her bare feet into sand and stone. Out there in the dark she could hear waves lapping up against the shore.

Now she could see it clearly as the night would allow. There was no denying its reality…no denying its physically impossible shape. It was there, standing out in the water, watching over the city and its inhabitants. Protecting. With legs too weak to carry her further, she allowed her knees to buckle and collapsed into the soft sand, letting her slight frame fall into the cradling granules. One word fell from her lips, the voice broken and desperate.

"Titans…"

Eyes that were not just bloodshot, but actually bloody, stayed fixed on that bizarrely-shaped tower, the glow of light still evident in some of its many rooms…they flickered like candles out there in the dark. She let a dreamless sleep overtake her, screams of the darkness still drumming against her soul.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclamer: Still don't own anything except Ryce…The rest are still copyrighted to DC and to the authors of the Legendsverse. Sorry I take a year and a day to type things. Just realize its been exactly 3 months...which is weird...and completely unintentional.

* * *

In life the roles we play are not always easy. You don't always get to be the star of the show nor do you always get the credit which you deserve. In fact, more often than not, you may perceive that you are never on the receiving end for the recognition of all you do. No one ever applauds those who keep the show running behind the scenes. Dave Stathis understood this concept well…and as a much younger man may have rallied against the injustice of it. However, these days he simply resigned himself to the aforementioned fact, and instead of fighting made himself a sandwich at 3 in the morning.

Dave Stathis a Captain of the Jump City Police Department had joined the force with the over eager enthusiasm of a young puppy. Through the years he had worked his way up, keeping his shoulder up against the stone and his feet steady on the ground as he had in every other aspect of his life. Trying his damndest to not allow the job to jade his realistic but non-cynical views of life. Such a level headed mentality and hard work ethic had never failed to serve him in the past so when he started moving upwards he saw no reason to change it. Even when he found himself pulling the weight of others and doing the jobs of those too lazy to do it themselves, he kept at it. After all, it had gotten him a job…a beautiful wife…two once angelic little girls…a three bedroom ranch house with fenced-in yard…his work ethic had gotten him the American dream.

Dreams end though. We wake up. We wake up and all the pleasantries and rosy words are devoured by the disease that is reality. Devoured just as quickly and mercilessly as his beautiful wife's body had been by that tiny little lump that doctors had reassured her to probably be "nothing too serious." But soon the tiny lump became a slightly larger but still small imperfection and "nothing too serious" had become "we still don't think it's anything serious but let's run some tests…" So it was only a matter of time that even that became replaced by "We are sorry but…" Hard work meant nothing this time. And soon Dave Stathis was left alone with two small girls. He kept his head for them…kept the resentment at life in check and his shoulder against the stone.

Standing in front of the sterile cool glow of his refrigerator light bulb Dave gave a sigh. If only the favor were ever returned. A glance at his elder daughter's closed door and a scratch to his pajama pant clad thigh, his eyes narrowing at the dull barely there slip of light beneath the door. Probably chatting online again…he caught her talking to this guy on there the other week…claimed to be a 14 year old boy from a school system across town…Qrtbck230 was his moniker. He could be as he said Stathis supposed…he could also be some 45 year old guy luring unsuspecting little girls down to the park. This assessment of course earned him nothing more than a rash of nasty looks and screams about "ruining her life."

Thirteen years old and nothing but an protective father to guide her, he was not quite surprised by the fact that the girl spent most of her time doing the exact opposite of everything he said… but it was the way her face twisted into that god damned smirk that knocked him for a loop. Dave tried so hard to not allow himself to actually dislike his own child…but day by day it was growing all the more difficult. He loved her unconditionally that was unquestionable.

But somewhere along the way, sometime after his beloved Judy had wasted away, this sweet innocent child that once rode on his shoulders wearing mouse ears and a grin had become an inconceivably bitter and defiant brat. His Becky (Just the other day, a venom filled snap "It's Re-Beck-Ca! Are you really this stupid?! Gawd!") had faded into this? Shaking his head he leaned into the cool brightness of his fridge, not wanting to dwell upon it anymore. At least he still had…

The caterwauling shriek seemed to rise up from the very earth beneath their home's cracking foundation. Flesh creeping and eyes wide, the officer attempted to straighten, bashing the back of his head on the fridge shelf above it. A curse of pain and surprise as milk tilted, splashing its contents unto the bread to make a soggy mess. Eggs went flying to the floor to shatter in intricate yellow flowers. Nearly slipping into the mess he had created Dave sprinted out of formerly still and clean kitchen into the dark hallway. He did not know exactly what he expected to find nor why his entire body seemed to scream instinctually that this cry seemed so much more than that of simple nightmare. All at once…the air felt electric and his eyes were hot in his skull, a feeling he knew from years of plunging into chaos and danger unknown. Every hair on his neck standing, he ripped open the door at the end of the hall plunging into its yawning mouth like a mad man. The open window sucked the door nearly shut behind him and he tripped into the black, his five year old Darcy still screaming in unrepentant terror.

"Darcy!? Darcy's what's wrong!?"

Eyes tried to adjust, tried to make sense of the melding shadows cast by dolls and toys around the room. Confusion lapsed his mind as he tried to feel for frilly edge of the child's bed, hadn't he plugged that damn night light in when he tucked her in 5 hours ago? That green superhero she was so damn crazed about…Beat Boy or something stupid like that...as it stood he could use it right now the light from the hall barely granting him any headway. In the dark his hand brushed something sharp and a small curse fell from his mouth. Before he could gather a guess as to what he had pierced his hand on, the little girl somewhere above his head sobbed from her mound of blankets something finally somewhat intelligible.

"Cuh-Cuh-clos-clos…"

Closet?

"Darcy…"

"Monster Daddy!! Monster!"

Eyes still unused to the dark reactively darted towards the general direction of the child's closet, his tone already growing weary, "Darcy...honey…there is no…"

For moment his voice seemed to catch. His pupils were adjusting and the shadows splayed across her bedroom wall seemed to take a more definite shape. Demonic and large it swallowed the pink bunnies his wife had years ago painted by hand. His eyes widened in the dark and followed the trail of that shadow to its source above his head. Perched atop the closet door was a splotch of solid darkness not shadow but surely flesh, two pin pricks of mismatched blue light glinted back down at him, cat like and strange. His skin seemed to tighten over his body, as this thing whose shadow did not match its body stared with a sort of bored detachment down at the man and child. I am not seeing this his mind hissed trying desperately to find reason for this hallucination…I am not seeing this and those sounds coming out of it that actually hurt to hear were not really there. Then it smiled…it had fangs.

"What are you doing?"

A scream ripped its way out from both the father and daughter as light spilled into the room from the hallway. Dave twisted around to find himself now under the gaze of Becky (Re-Beck-Ca to stupid old men who didn't listen) who stared at both her father and sister with the kind of vicious annoyance that only girls after the age of eleven seem capable of. Open and shut, Dave felt his mouth bobble, like a particularly dim goldfish.

"Buh- Buh-Becca…dere…dere's"

"Spit it out Darcy!"

"Monster!!!"

A fresh round of sobs and tears began and Dave's eyes darted back to the closet where a beam of hallway light had fallen. Searching for the cat like orbs that a moment ago glared with hellish intensity.

Nothing.

Becky had walked from the doorway into the room now, in the back of his mind he could hear her snapping at the younger girl for being a big stupid baby. That there were no such things as monsters and how the hell was she supposed to get any sleep around here with this racket (sleep my ass some distant voice snapped in his head). A headache threatened to overtake the man and a hand reached up to pinch tightly at the bridge of his nose. By now Darcy was yelling back angry and indignant at being called a liar and a baby. Wet fingers slid across his face and he pulled them away surprised to find blood smeared across his skin.

"Ewww! Daddy's bleeeeeeeeding!"

Dave glanced up to see both girls pulled away from their squabbling long enough to notice the deep cuts tracing across several of his finger tips. To see a red streak of it marking his face. For one brief and shining moment concern flashed over Becky's face and Dave was sure he could see that little girl in mouse ears lurking somewhere behind it. But soon enough it was swallowed up in contempt, a slim hand reaching out and harshly shoving the smaller girl on the bed.

"Good going you nitwit…you went and broke your stupid baby light and dad cut his hand on it!"

Little eyes darted downwards and followed her father's and sister's gaze which came to rest on the shattered glass inches from the man's hand. A green face pulled back into a cartoony happy grin was cracked right in two, a purple and black clad leg the only other discernable thing amongst the purple, black, and green glass shards. Shaking her head from side to side violently as more tears streaked down her face the child said, "Nuh-uh! Da monster did it! It came in through da window and broke Beastboy daddy! It said shhhhh and broke Beastboy into a million bajillion pieces!"

"This is so friggen' stupid!"

Before the girls could dissolve into a quarrel again, before their father could scold the older one for her language, the door into the hallway slammed shut pitching the room back into black. A terrified squeal from one girl and a harried snap from the other, "It's the wind you dolt!" With a sigh Dave stood, careful to not wipe his bloodied fingers on his pajamas, an unmarred hand grappling against the wall for a switch. Bright light flooded the room, once again ending any fighting between the two sisters. From her tangle of bed sheets Darcy blinked up at him eyes red and swollen from tears, an arm showing just the slightest sign of fleeting baby fat clutched tightly around the neck of a doll of the same green person shattered amongst the floor.

Beastboy….not Beat-Boy. One of those metas that lived in the tower out on the bay.

A quick glance at the closet once more (and what did you expect to see there his mind chided, still rather embarrassed that he allowed himself to be so caught up in his youngest's ramblings) and he strode across the room to shut the window that had probably caused all this commotion.

"Bec…Rebecca…don't call her names. It's time everyone went back to bed…there's no monsters…no boogeymen. The window must've knocked something into your nightlight Darce…and it broke. It's okay now."

Darcy's expression conveyed her disbelief at this assessment but nodded anyways. After all the light was on and the monster had gone out the door. Rebecca gave no nod, but her eyes rolled in her head like loose ball bearings before she shot a look of pure venom at both her father and sister, "Whatever." Not giving her father the time to even react she whipped about and walked from the room letting the door slam shut behind her. Stupid baby…stupid old man. She would bet ten bucks that he slept on her floor tonight so the little pain wouldn't cry anymore…god how stupid. She could already hear him settling in down the hall, the slip of light beneath the door flicking off.

Walking past her open bedroom door to the kitchen she grumbled her annoyances to the empty room…luckily Darcy hadn't gone and screwed up her conversation with Tommy…better known to her father as Qrtback230. A glass of water before she turned in for the night, now that stupid Darcy had gone and woken up. By the time she had filled the plastic cup from the sink she could hear her father's rumbling snores.

A creak from behind her…and without skipping a beat the young teen snapped, "Get back in your room Darcy!" In the hall a door creaked shut sharply. That was more like it. With a dramatic sigh she tossed the cup in the sink, ignoring the remaining water that sloshed all over the counter top before ambling back towards the hallway to her room. She wasn't quite sure when Darcy had become such a pain in the backside or when her father had become such a loser but it had happened…and so she counted down the years until birthday 18 and she was free of their nonsense.

She was so caught up in her inner ranting that she walked straight into her bedroom door. Rubbing her offended nose she gave a small snappy curse before turning the knob and throwing it open. Stupid door...she left it open why was it shut? Stupid old house with its stupid broken doors. She'd tell her father in the morning to fix it…though god knows when he would bothe….

Eyes widened when she entered, seeing the small scene before her. Clothes lay strewn about, closet and drawers open, one pulled right off the tracks onto the floor. The homework that had been so neatly piled unto her desk had been knocked to the floor, sheets of paper lying about haphazardly and out of order, some even torn and crumpled. Somehow it seemed a small bomb had been detonated between the time it took her hands to turn the faucet on and her tossing the unfinished beverage down the drain. A glance to her night stand revealed the outfit set out for the next day to be mostly MIA, the only thing remaining in a tangled mess by the over turned chair was the last straw. A breeze from the open window set a sleeve of her favorite blouse (now wrinkled into a ruined ball) flopping about. With a cry of rage she ripped the door back open behind her.

"DARCY! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY ROOM!!?"

* * *

Outside the ranch style home within the bushes, a hand cast a stained sleeveless under shirt to the side. It fell with a light whisper over a pair of torn and large jeans heaped carelessly on the dewy grass. This task done the fingers set to work on the clasps of a pair of brown boots, the nails of it still slightly torn, dark stains dyed purple in the early morning moon here and there amongst the cuticles. The girl was crouched low; her new clothes though baggy in some places and a little too tight in others fitting her body a great deal better than the discarded garments pilfered the night before. A lock of blond hair fell over the grayish haze of her left eye, obscuring it and half of her bent frames from view.

She'd almost been caught…had definitely been seen by two, but judging from the shouts emerging from the home behind her hidden form none in the house were really the wiser. Maybe the child, but no one would believe her anyway. Bi colored eyes darted to the pile of trinkets beside her, attracted by the humming pulsing glow emerging from one of the objects. The slightest of cringes flickered on her face.

Finished with her boots she gathered the pile, an inhaler in the pants pocket, a camera lifted from the home behind her, hung on a strap about a slim neck. Resting beside the camera was an ornate Celtic knot that hung on a delicate chain the dark silver contrasting heavily with her pale skin. The rest, silly little odds and ends shoved into whatever pockets would hold them save for that luminous marble casting an angry reddish glow about the grass.

Sighing in resignation the sickly looking girl picked it up, pinched between two fingers and held the strange little orb up at eye level. Moments ago spiraling swiftly around it were silver rings which now tapped and strained with urgency against the digits holding them in place. In this silence a low growling, felt more than heard, emitted from the glowing light. The girl answered it with a series of growling garbles of her own, her voice soft and unmistakably apologetic before glancing back with interest at the window she just exited,

"The older one? Yes…yes...understood…"

The red glow had faded into a less violent orange, the rings no longer insistently battering on her fingers. The voice emerged again, calmer this time in quiet and understandable though accent tinged English. "Until then you wait…y'know the rules love…wait for him and until then obs…"

"Observe and minimal engagement…earn their trust…obey the rules…yea yea I know the deal by now."

"Don't be smart with me girl…now go…"

As soon as the conversation began it ended, the pulsing marble's glow fading from orange into a swirl of smoky white and grey. Soon it was no more than a slight glimmer and it too was tucked away into one of her many new pockets. The blind eye roved over towards the house once more, its pale hue contrasting heavily above the purplish crescents forming under her eyes. Exhausted or not the teen stood, far more steady after the few hours of sleep afforded to her on the beach the night before. Then without another word she turned and left the yard, boots clicking softly on the sidewalk, heading back to the bay. Tomorrow was Tuesday, she'd know where to find one of them, and then the game would begin again.

Pawn To F3.

* * *

"Robert?"

Half lidded blue eyes glanced lazily over to the woman kneeling beside him roving over the pink bikini she was currently clad in. His head turned ever so slightly on the lap of the girl cradling it behind him. The young man sported a pair of plain blue jeans and a tee shirt with a stylized "G" marking it. His blond hair mussed at the moment as the red haired orange tinged young woman cradling his skull ran her fingers through it. Robert Candide, Gauntlet of the Titans, playboy extraordinaire surrounded by a harem of women, all vying for his affections and attentions. Yes, life was indeed good for Gauntlet.

"Yes Kitten?"

The pretty blond crouched at his side gave him a look of vapid awe that dictated to him that she was mere seconds away from swooning. Any thought the girl may have had to speak flittered away in watery staring. A smile and a sigh, it was to be expected, his sheer awesomeness often left all around him speechless. He opened his mouth awaiting another grape from Starfire's hands when a yowling noise caught his attention.

A smile like a parent indulging a particularly simple but sweet child made its way across Gauntlet's face as he turned once again to look in the opposite direction. Sitting in the corner another young man, slightly older than he sat grinning blankly. Dressed in all white with strands of spiked hair the same hue poking out from beneath a pointed dunce's cap, the youth gave a laugh and went back to swinging a cat around by its tail, oblivious to its yowling.

"I'm Noel Collins and I'm the biggest idiot ever!"

Robert sighed and shook his head not unkindly as a chorus of laughter sounded from the women surrounding him. Yes, life was good...and so he turned his gaze back up again awaiting his grape and the opportunity to gaze up into the sparkling worshiping eyes of…

Beastboy.

"Dude you awake?"

"AHHHHHH!"

"AHHHHHH!"

Green limbs flailed for balance as the startled meta stumbled back away from the living room couch. Knees caught the edge of the coffee table sending him tumbling head over heal towards the floor below. Instantly the purple and black clad youth shifted, limbs shrinking and suit absorbed into his already curling body. By the time he hit the deck his shell plated body merely rolled across the carpet, leaving a dizzy though non-concussion suffering armadillo to amble crookedly away.

Heart hammering away and the Gauntlet half way activated Robert shifted ever so slightly to glare at the green armadillo with exhausted eyes. Such a beautiful dream…such a wonderful dream…and now? Awake again. With a rather out of character and cranky grumble he turned back away, intent on fading back into sleep only to look up and see a pair of bright green eyes peering down at him from the arm of the couch.

"Marvelous! You are awake friend Robert!"

"No I'm not…"

"But a storm is coming!"

As if this somehow emphasized her point Starfire gestured to a baseball hat fit snugly onto her head with one hand while lifting a baseball bat up with the other. Robert did not want to know what baseball and thunderstorms had to do with one another nor did he want to know why despite everyone else slipping into sweet comatose exhaustion how Star stayed so chipper.

"Robert?"

"Robert Candide isn't here right now…please leave a message after the beep…beep."

The past week had been nothing short of grueling for the Titans it seemed. Every five seconds the alarm had to sound. A Slade copycat on Wednesday followed by not one, not even two, but three armed robberies…none of them having any connection to the other except for a chorus of "Hey it's Bob and Frank!" when they shoved the last group into the back of the SWAT truck. Thursday of course brought great news when some lunatic with water based powers decided that even though no one else could see it the city was indeed on fire and he had no choice but to explode the sewer system up unto the street to "save the day!" Three hours of chasing him (somewhere along the line he also decided his clothes were on fire and needed to be shed) and then another twelve to clean up and fix the damage his repulsive mess left behind. Each day seemed liked this...robberies, nut cases, and all around pains in the ass seemed to have crawled out of the woodwork to maim, streak, harm, and them all of sleep.

Then of course there was also all the "little things" around the tower that needed to be done. Cooking, cleaning, fixing whatever it was someone had broken with a cannon this week. Somehow, someway the schedule seemed to have gone awry often ending in arguments about whose turn exactly it was to repair the fourth wall and who had to cook dinner and why it was that ALL of Noel's shirts had been turned pink (which Robert still swears had nothing to do with him….almost…sorta…). Add unto this the daily 5 a.m. training session regiment that their 'fearless leader' had made mandatory after that incident with Mumbo down at the pier (which for some reason Victor STILL wouldn't give details about). You pretty much were left with a group of young men and women who were going on about 2 to 3 hours of sleep a day and an unhealthy amount of energy drinks. But the alarm had been quiet today…no frantic calls, desperate screams…and so Robert had tentatively decided to take a little nap.

"Robert we must go and play the bass of ball before the storm has moved out."

A muffled groan that sounded suspiciously like go away from the pillow the young man had buried his face in. With a flick of his wrist yellow energy flowed out into the air and tried to make a sound proof barrier between himself and the orange tinged alien. A look of disappointment overcame her features as she knocked tentatively on the shell surrounding him.

"Pleeeeease?"

"It's base not bass…Why the sudden interest in sports and weather patterns Kor?"

Starfire gave out an "eep" of surprise, not noticing as two of her team mates entered the room through the door through which a rather cranky green armadillo had just shuffled out of. The speaker, a white clad meta, raised a single brow up towards his hairline as she turned a little too quickly and gave a nervous laugh. Noel Collins, Savior, watched as she shifted her weight from foot to foot and switched the baseball bat from hand to hand. The slightest of pink rose in her cheeks as she gave a shrug, before quipping.

"No reason dear friend! Um….You're not wearing your headband today!"

"It's being bleached and don't change the subject," eyes quickly darted to glare at the still energy surrounded form on the couch, before coming back to Star, whose sheepish mannerisms involved into outright twitchings. She had set aside the wooden bat by now and was twisting her fingers in and out of each other.

"Nothing wrong with exer…"

"It's from that stupid book she's been reading….The one with the sparkly vampires...apparently when they're not incessantly whining they play baseball in the rain."

"Raven!"

The violet haired woman, who had moments ago entered the living area with her boyfriend, merely sipped her tea. Without a glance up at the red faced Star she settled herself down onto a space of couch not obscured by yellow energy.

"If you insist on reading that vapid Twilight nonsense than learn to take the ribbing from your peers Kory."

"But the writing is…"

"God awful and dramatic."

"The character Edwar…"

"Would look like sleep deprived crack addict in the real world and nothing you say is going to make that book, its author, or characters appealing to me."

"There are over a hundred of rooms in this tower…why must everyone gather in the one place I'm sleeping?"

Both Raven and Starfire ceased their bantering to glance over at Robert whose attempts and soundproofing seemed to have been in vain. Gauntlet deactivating and energy dissipating, the young man clutched at his temples and glared at the two with sunken eyes. A look of sympathy from Star and one of cool indifference from Raven, who sighed and went back to sipping her tea.

"You do have a room to sleep in Robert."

"Someone broke the fourth wall again and there is a draft now."

"Well considering no one but you will enter your room since it looks like the site of some natural disaster…you were the "someone" who broke it and you can fix it."

The tired glare shifted over to Noel's direction. The white clad meta was currently opening and closing cabinets in the Titan kitchen, apparently searching for something. Whatever it was did not seem too encompassing however as he found time to listen and comment. Sitting up ever so slightly to get a better glaring point Robert grumbled, "Unlike Kory I do not run solely on the joy of being alive…I spent all night on the phone with tech support to fix Tim's computer…"

"Which fried when you and Garfield decided to pirate that game off of Limewire…everyone is tired Robert…my sympathy for you is limited."

"You're capable of sympathy? Isn't that a human emotion?"

Ignoring this slight completely Savior continued rummaging through the rather barren kitchen. Seeing that the bickering had stopped Star turned back towards the couch to find Robert already rolling over and falling back into a doze. With a slight frown she gave a hesitant smile and opened her mouth to speak. Raven still not even glancing up said, "The answer is No Kory." Before disappointed could be voiced Noel returned to the living room frowning, "We have no food...how do we have no food?"

"We have a box of meat flavored baked goods under the counter Noel…they are most delicious."

"…..Those are dog biscuits Kor….dog biscuits for Silkie."

"...but Silkie is not a canine."

Star could only smile in bemusement at the young man's sigh, head cocking to the side ever so slightly as he pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. Sensing Noel's patience thinning Raven took it upon herself to change the subject away from Kory's eating habits.

"Nigel is doing a grocery run Noel…He'll be back soon enough."

"Nigel…"

"Yes Nigel."

"The same Nigel who came back on the verge of a nervous break down with 27 tubs of Crisco, 53 rolls of paper towels, and an ear of corn last time we sent him?"

"…Yes…."

* * *

"…red round fruit…"

The grey toned alien stared at the piece of paper on which Starfire had written and then back at the produce before him. This was the problem with letting ten people write out a food shopping list as they happened to think of things…especially when two of said people had a limited grasp of Earth customs and foods…and some of them paid no heed to details. Compounding this problem was sending HIM here to decipher it all. With gentleness one would never expect from such lethal looking hands the blacktrinian picked up an apple in one hand and a tomato in the other, frowning at them both. Both red….both round…and he was relatively sure both fruit…he wasn't even going to consider those tiny red spheres bunched into a basket at the end (cheeries or something).

Finally he grabbed a bag of both and tossed them both into the cart, trying to hide the look of frustration crossing his face. Grocery runs conducted without the aid of either a team mate or his significant other were always stressful…people tended to stare at large grey skinned aliens picking through the produce and the security guard at the door never quite believed that the metal encasing his fingers did in fact NOT come off and was not going to be used to eviscerate the other patrons. In fact grocery runs might have been one of the worst tasks ever to be asked of him…well besides cleaning out the med-bay and taking inventory…which he realized with an inner groan he had yet to do today as well.

Another glance at the piece of paper in his hand and the notes upon it all in varying degrees of illegibility, as he pushed the already heavily loaded cart in front of him. Absently he pushed it straight into one of the shelves, the bang echoing in the store around him and sending several bags of oranges plummeting. Catching them deftly, careful to avoid slicing them in half, he looked up red faced to the small crowd watching him. An older man shaking his head in disapproval, a nervous looking mother quickly pushed the cart containing her toddler away, and a teenaged girl sitting on the edge of a bin of pumpkins smiled not unkindly in amusement. Well at least a mess had been avoided and finally something on the damnable list made sense and with a slight smile he began tossing the ingredients in as he passed them.

"Guacamole ingredients….limes…onions…already have tomatoes and…"

Black and blue eyes narrowed in annoyance at the scrawl of Robert's hand writing and he stopped dead. Nigel may have not been the most astute when it came to Earthern terms and expressions…but he knew enough to know that there was no way that this was right. That not a single sign had this phrase on it and this was just another way for his blond team mate to amuse himself while making the blacktrinian's life just slightly more difficult.

"Alligator pears. What in the name of…"

A slim hand pointing to his right flooded his vision, startling him slightly. Following the direction the digit pointed him towards he saw a display of dark green lumpy fruit. The pear shape was unmistakable…and its skin did closely resemble that of the aforementioned reptile.

"Avocados…"

"Hm?"

Turning his gaze away from what he assumed were Robert's "alligator pears" Nigel looked to his side to the owner of the pointing hand. The smiling girl from before, still perched atop the pumpkin bin stared back, the slightly amused grin not yet gone from her face. She could have been no more than 17…perhaps even younger. Blond hair pulled halfway back into a clip of some sort the rest in small intricate braids falling down her back, the beads clicking slightly at their ends as she tilted her head at him.

The doctor in him automatically took note of her slight, almost sickly frame, the dull haze over her left eye, which despite his being sure of its uselessness kept up well enough with its bright blue working twin. The mismatched eyes unnerved him somehow, All at once, a sense of familiarity flooded him though he'd be damned if he knew why. He was sure that he'd never seen this teen before in his life, but sitting there holding his stare somehow made him doubt himself. Breaking away from his gaze, she dropped the pointing hand and gripped the edge of the pumpkin bin again, nodding her head over at the display slightly.

"Alligator pears are avocados…no one really calls them that though…whoever wrote the list out is busting your chops."

"Oh...well thank you. That makes my job easier."

"No problem."

Making his way over, he could practically feel the girl's eyes watching him, surely with that tiny Cheshire cat grin on her face. Absently tossing the oddly textured fruit into the cart he gave a glance backward to find the pumpkin bin abandoned. With a look this way and that he found that she had vanished from sight. For the better he supposed…helpful though she was, something was giving him the creeps about her…something seemed off.

The girl with the mismatched eyes was soon enough forgotten. Within 15 minutes Nigel could already feel the frustration and confusion winning out over his patience, picking at its fraying edges like an old sweater. Next on the list was "Star's favorite mustard"…how specific…there were 19 different brands...each with at least 5 different flavors and at least 2 of those flavors had varying degrees of "flavor-ocity." He was pretty sure that these condiment companies were now just making up words with the lone goal of driving him insane. It was mind numbing…with an annoyed noise he grabbed 6 of the differing types at random and tossed them into the cart.

Next, please? Juice? Well, he thought, this says juice and look at the happy little clam on it…that was simple.

A soft whimper brought him out of his slow spiral into can goods induced hell. Barely a sniffle that by most would have gone unnoticed as they continued their food stuffs rounds. Most people didn't have ears like satellite dishes though, and what was a whisper for them came to him in stereo. Dark eyes glanced over his shoulder slightly and down, seeking the source of the pitiful sound.

It didn't take long however, as the black and blue orbs locked on to the small child that had wandered into the aisle some 10 feet behind him. Pig tailed and thumb sucking, she could have been no more than 5 or 6 years in age. Wide glassy eyes brimming with tears she gazed about the shelves, the hand not preoccupied with providing her with a thumb to suck, pulling at the left pig tail ever so slightly. It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of a lost child. With a sigh Nigel pressed the cart to one side and took a step forward, kneeling down to her eye level. Poor little tike, busy and frustrated as he was he couldn't just ignore her.

"Are you lost my dear?"

Eyes brightened ever so slightly as the sound of an adult voice, the child turned in his direction nodding her head. That is until she finally saw the man talking to her. Nigel never quite realized his mistake. He gave her a kind and gentle smile, and all the tot saw was teeth.

Sharp…pointy…fanged…teeth.

The shriek she emitted reached pitches that sent Nigel stumbling backwards with his own caw of surprised. He brought his hands up, one to catch his fall and the other in front of him palm facing out as he tried to reassure the screaming little girl of his harmlessness. Even if the hand was not a sharp metal claw, it probably would have done nothing. Being as it was? The girl screamed again at an even louder decibel and fled the aisle before he could get another word out. All of this in a matter of a split second and that grappling hand looking to steady the off balance alien? It found purchase on the handle of the cart, the momentum of his stumbling rocketing it forward on its wheels straight into a display of ketchup. Over tumbles the cart…over tumbles the ketchup…over tumbles Nigel right unto the floor.

Food. Shopping. Sucks.

A low growl began to vibrate in the back of his throat, metal encased hands clenching into tightly balled fists. He was done. No more shopping...clamoring up unto his feet he glared at the scattering, rolling, and splattered items that once resided in the overturned cart, it's one wheel spinning in the air. It's mocking me his mind snapped as he bent to gather what was salvageable.

It didn't take particularly long to launch the cart back upright or to toss all its contents back in. Checking between the list and what he had regathered, mentally checking off each item…frowning at the feeling that he lost something. Strange eyes scanned the cracked linoleum that covered the floor, seeking whatever it was that was nagging him. They finally came to rest on a pair of worn brown boots. Eyes trailed up to the skinny style jeans that looked a size to big for the legs they covered and at about hip level saw the hand offering the canned juice with the clam on it. With a sigh of defeat he took it from the teenager's hand and tilted his gaze upwards to her face.

"Having trouble still?"

"You could say that…"

"Would you like some help Mr. Scalpel?

"Oh so you …know me…" he only realized how lame this comment had started once it had already left his mouth. The teen with the mismatched eyes gave a small laugh and nodded her head, the beads in her hair letting out those light clicking sounds once more.

"No offense…but you are a 6 foot tall grey skinned alien super hero sir… you are kinda hard to miss."

Sir? He really wasn't that much older than this girl…he pondered the formality. Before he could question it though the same hand who had returned to him this can of juice plucked the grocery list out of his grasp. Spectacled eyes scanned the page darting every so often to the cart with either a nod of the head or a bemused smile. Normally Nigel may have found the presumptuous girl to be a bit pushy but glancing at the mess of items in his cart, part of him welcomed the intrusion.

Finishing the list she set to work whisking the multiple bottles of mustard from the top of his hodgepodge pile and tossing them back onto the shelf. Without so much as a second glance she snatched up 3 bottles of the same brand and flavor and tossed them into the cart in their place. The juice was also placed back, much to his annoyance. He may have not been all that well versed but he could read.

"It says juice right there."

"Not all juice is the same Mr. Scalpel…that's clam juice. Trust me I'm sure the others don't mean clam juice."

"Oh…"

A faint blush sprung up on his face, he supposed the little clam character on the label wasn't just some cutesy mascot.

"Don't worry about it…simple mistake. Any one would be fried after reading that list…in some cases it looks like a fairly average monkey wrote it out. Hmm Juice…I'd probably go with Cran-Apple Peach."

Hearing the suggestion, an image of Tara complaining that they were out of her favorite juice flashed before him. The five letters had been her hand writing as well…good thing this girl and his team mates had similar tastes he supposed.

"Well…where to next?"

He stared at her blankly for a moment, not comprehending her question.

"I offered my help didn't I? Let's see you did okay on the produce, you even got all the herbs right…and you've got…what is this?"

"It says beef…For barbecuing…this was on sale."

"…this…is a cow tongue…"

"Cows are beef."

With a look of mild disgust she pinched the butcher package between two fingers sure to hold it at arm's length as she tossed it unto the shelf beside her. "Not everything on a cow is um….barbecue worthy Mr. Scapel. I'd go with burgers…or ribs…," she said steering the cart away from the abandoned package of cow tongue whipping a hand absently on the ill fitted pant leg. Catching up to her in a few short strides he smiled a bit sheepishly down at her as carried on, consulting the list every so often and tossing in another item.

"Please…just Scalpel is fine. Thank you again Miss."

"Ryce…"

"Excuse me?"

"I'll call you Scalpel…you call me Ryce."

* * *

"This is robbery…"

"The economy is bad."

"That's not the point!"

"Doesn't the city pay for your food anyway?"

"…also not the point Ms. Ryce."

The teenager sighed and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose to keep them from toppling unto the pavement below. Nigel in the meantime had taken to staring mouth agape at the receipt in his hand, which's end was dragging on the ground behind him. Never before had the blacktrinian realized how much food they actually consumed…or how much it cost. He could hear the girl chuckling at his expression softly behind him and turned back to face her.

"Thank you again for your help…I keep my sanity for another day it seems."

"Your welcome N...."

The ringing communicator cut her off, the volume actually cutting above the noise of the traffic on the street before them. With an apologetic grin he reached into a pocket, clawed hand remerging clutching the basic yellow com emblazoned with a T. Her eyes widened ever so slightly and he saw a flicker of excitement glittering there. Now he understood. A fan. That explained the formality from before. The look on her face more befitting of an impromptu meeting of a movie star than a glance at a Titan communicator. It was endearing in a way.

"Scalpel? You there"

"Yes Robin…just finishing up and heading ho…"

"We have a crazed animal loose down town…meet us at 33rd and Vine."

"Can't animal control handle this?"

"It's a 2,000 lb rhinoceros that is shooting a corrosive agent that eats through steal….no. The whole team is needed I think."

Somewhere in the background his ears detected what could only be Robert's protests at being dragged out of bed again.

"Robin…I have over $600 worth of food here…"

"I'll handle it."

Looking up away from the miniature image of their team leader on the screen Nigel found Ryce leaning on the cart piled high with packages, "I'm sorry?"

"I can have them send it all over later tonight for you...unless you want to take it all with you and hope it doesn't get acidic rhino goo on it."

"Scalpel who is that?"

"Just a friend Robin…I'll be there in five minutes."

With a flick of his wrist he snapped the yellow intercom shut. Ryce was by now walking her fingers up and down the edge of the cart nonchalantly humming softly to herself.

"You can have them sent over? Really?"

"Yup…no problemo."

"Let me give you the addr…"

"Giant T…middle of bay…almost as hard to miss as 6 foot tall grey alien."

He couldn't help but chuckle. Coming out of another person the light sarcasm might have sounded rude, but the girl managed to make it friendly. He supposed he should have more doubts about just up and leaving over half a grand of food with a complete stranger, but just as he felt off put by her earlier, he felt a strange amount of trust now. In fact, he could not help but chastise himself for how uneasy he had felt around her originally. Giving her a broad grin he nodded, "Very true…thank you again Ryce." He was just about to run off towards 33rd when he heard her stutter out behind him

"Mist…uh…I mean Scalpel…I was wondering…if you could…um…"

Glancing back he saw her standing beside the cart, ears bright red, eyes cast down. She had a camera in her hand…and a pen. Not thirty seconds later he was off, in good spirits despite the "lovely" task which lay some 6 blocks east of him. Not every day a citizen of Jump not only didn't cringe away from his appearance but actually asked for an autograph.

* * *

"Food! Glorious food!"

"Dramatic much Gar?"

The green tinged meta didn't respond to Victor's deadpanned assessment, instead taking it upon himself to start rummaging through the packages they had carried inside. He was so hungry he didn't know where to start…fry up a tofu burger maybe? That would take too long. Perhaps some chips? Not hardy enough. Then maybe…Eyes widened and his mouth set the faucet to on.

Pie.

Hands never quite got the chance to snatch up the large apple pie taunting him so lusciously from the counter top. A metal composed elbow crashed down on the crown of his head when he was mere inches away from its crusty-appley goodness. Wincing eyes tried their best to glare up at Cyborg who only grappled his smaller shoulder and pushed him back away from the bounty of feasting before him.

"You are covered in mutant rhino spit…DO NOT touch our food."

"But I'm hungryyyyy!"

"Stop whining…go shower and someone will make dinner."

"Who? The only one's who are any good are Tara and her hands are crispy and Sophie who is still at the police station!"

As if to make his point further their near impossibly skinny team mate wandered into the kitchen area. Ice blue eyes narrowed into slits at everything, arms held out delicately in front of her. The lanky limbs ended at the moment not in hands but in wads of cotton and gauze from which tiny stumps of finger tips would wiggle every so often. A sympathetic look from her boyfriend went unrecognized as she merely grumbled out something ornery and probably crude before plopping herself down in a chair. Following her, sighing and looking rather battered, bruised, and burnt himself Nigel reached out to check the bandages he had wrapped nearly an hour or so ago.

"Tara…Tim did warn you that it was corosi…"

"Shut. Up. Nigel."

"Hey! Nigel ya even got all the stuff for my famous barbecue sauce? I thought I forgot to write the ingredients down…man we gotta send you out more often!"

"Wow…Nigel…how did you manage to figure this list out? Hell you even knew Raven's favorite tea…I can't even find it half the time."

Pulling away from the glaring match with his blond team mate, Nigel turned to see Noel staring uncomprehendingly at the scrawled out mess that was the grocery list. Victor had already busied himself with storing the odd array of ingredients that the blacktrinian man had seen the young woman toss into the cart earlier. It struck him suddenly and oddly… he realized before he opened his mouth he was going to forgo mentioning the teenager. He couldn't imagine any reason as to why but he had no desire to bring her up…in fact felt compelled to purposefully omit her entirely.

"Who is Ryce?"

"Huh?"

Sophie Matthews stood in the door way peering curiously at the piece of paper in Noel's hand. Eyes exhausted looking, dark circles marking their sockets and her full cheeks. A pang of sympathy raced through the taller alien's face. For days running between a morgue and police station…it was no wonder the poor woman looked near ready to collapse. And for such a grisly assignment too…

"Who is Ryce? They left a note on the back of that list."

For the first time both Noel and Nigel noticed the unfamiliar handwriting looped quickly on the back of the list that had been thrown back into one of the bags. Turning it over Noel read aloud, "She's right…'Thanks for signing my camera Mr. Scapel ("Mr. Scalpel?" Garfield snickered behind them)…hope everything makes it to the tower okay' and there is a little heart and the name Ryce."

"Heheheheh…looks like you have competition there tubby…"

"Knock it off Tara," Beastboy muttered from his position at the sink, which he appeared to be all but bathing in. Tara seemed to ignore him as she granted an unkind grin to the heavier set woman in the door, who merely returned it with a dark look of her own.

"Don't be ridiculous Terra…Ryce was a young woman who helped me figure out this turkey cut list you all gave me…just a nice kid…"

A frown line creased Noel's brow as he stared at the slightly rushed, but undoubtedly feminine script on the list's back. Eyes glanced quickly to the slew of packages on the table…he had gotten everything. More than everything in fact, a big step from a single ear of corn and enough vegetable shortening to clog half the arteries of Jump City. "It's chicken scratch Nigel. This Ryce girl…she knew ALL the stuff on this list?"

"Well…yes…"

"Even Vic's super secret barbecue recipe? The one he keeps locked in a safe in his room…That doesn't strike you as odd?"

"She was a fan Noel…just a nice kid who practically turned purple when I gave her an autograph. That's why she knew it. And there is nothing "super secret" about Vic's sauce…Robert posted the recipe on the interknit weeks ago. You're paranoia is showing my friend."

"Even still…"

"Shh!"

The plus size heroine cut them both silent with her shushing gesture. Moving with surprising quickness, she crossed the room from where she had thrown her bag carelessly to one side. Snatching up the remote from the counter she pointed and clicked. Instantly the television's volume began to climb. On the screen a young blond woman in a pants suit was already halfway through her news segment.

"…and as of this time there are no leads. Captain David Stathis of Jump City had only this to say…"

Instantly the image of the young woman cut away and was replaced with a scene filmed at a news conference from earlier that day. A middle aged gentleman in a police uniform was standing at the podium.

"Right now all we can ask is that the citizens of Jump take some precautions. Lock your doors at night…keep your kids in after dark. If you notice anyone suspicious especially around our schools please contact the authorities as soon as possible. That is all we have for you at this time."

Flashing lights and questions fell on him in a tsunami of caws and shouts. His face clearly showed signs of his weariness at whatever this case contained. Noel could sympathize…he knew that look too well. Once more it cut away and the screen was filled with the same young reporter from before.

"Authorities are not commenting any further than this. We have heard that the bones found last week are allegedly from a 10 year old child…when questioned on whether or not the JCPD is going to involve the Titans in their investigations we were informed that cooperation between the two teams has already been set into motion. Back to you Charlie."

"Damn it…"

An out of character look of disgust ran across Sophie's features. Not that any of them could blame her. Being a mortician could desensitize you to so many things…but night and day staring at the mutilated and broken bones that once belong to a child? It would get to anyone. What had originally started as a simple case of missing kids had taken such a ghastly turn. It wasn't until the bones were found that the police force realized that these reports were no longer indicative of runaways. The trauma to the remains had made tracing much of anything impossible.

"Any closer to a lead Sophie?"

"No…it's just so hard to even tell how the poor kid died…the remains were lying out in the woods for so long, EVERYTHING has been at it. I won't even tell you what we found in her chest cavity."

"I'm eating pie here so that would be awesome if you didn't."

Arms cleaned as much as possible, Garfield frowned up at Sophie from the table, fork plunged into the confection. His only returned response was a half absent nod from the mortician as she made her way across the room to lean against her battered significant other.

On the still loud television screen, the report had long since ended moving on to another news conference. The man on the screen all but the police officer's opposite. Cleanly shaving and smiling…a handsome young man in his mid thirties with soft brown colored hair. Standing behind the podium with him was a pretty young waif like woman in a light blue dress. The perfect politician wife in every way, from the bright white smile to the subtly dependent way her fingers grazed the man's arm. Noel watched with mild interest, listening as the young man addressed the crowds regarding budgetary concerns and educational funding. Without so much as batting an eye, a strand of the shimmer looped around the remote behind him lifting it away from Gar's non-pie shoveling and outstretched hand.

"I'm listening to this Gar wait one minute."

"Why? Who's the suit?"

"Assemblyman Harry Nearson…this is probably going to be Jump's mayor this time next year. He's the political sweetheart of the month people from both sides of the aisle are singing his praises. You haven't notice all the campaigning? His office has called us 4 times this week alone for photo ops. The only way we got him to stop calling is to hand the phone to Rob."

"Is that who Rob was quoting 'Bonanza' to on the phone last night?"

"…I can only assume so."

Gar nodded his mouth too full to do much else before he returned his focus to pie, every so often offering Tara a spoonful as well. A glance at the digital clock fixed into the television set and the headache Noel was nursing began to pulse. So late and still so much to do…food had to go away…those dishes from 3 days ago looked capable of crawling out of their sink…he had to straighten and mop down the training room from this morning…he was going to watch something on television with Raven but god knew that was out. Eventually he supposed there would be time to sleep. With an inward sigh he straightened up and made his way across the room. A shimmer strand flicked a dish towel away from the sink as he moved flinging it over the back of the couch.

"Rob you are still on dish duty…wake up."

From the other side Gauntlet groaned miserably from under the dry towel covering his face. At least he'd gotten 15 minutes of sleep this time around.

* * *

It is mind boggling the lengths young teens will go to just to prove a parent wrong. Some of the most intelligent and logical falling prey to some near instinctual urge to rebel against something that they know is in their interest. Rebecca was a young…but she wasn't stupid by any means. She knew deep down that this was a stupid idea. It was only now, standing in the street in the middle of the night that she truly came to see just how stupid it was. A breeze ruffled her skirt slightly, carrying with it the chill of the approaching autumn as she shuffled away from the closed coffee shop behind her.

Qrtback230, more affectionately known to her as Tommy from PS 23, had asked her to meet. Meeting an internet boyfriend alone had set off every alarm her father had ingrained in her head since he had brought her the desktop PC several years ago. But apprehension had fallen away quickly after a fresh round of fighting that afternoon with her father. The subject matter had been banal and silly, but those qualities had melted away with magnificent ease in the heat of her self righteous anger. The door slammed shut the police officer did not even know the thirteen year old had long since clamored out her window.

But Tommy hadn't come. Upwards of 17 times she had checked the time and place on her phone, each time reaffirming that it was in fact Café Martine that he agreed to meet her at. She'd waited until closing and no Qrtback230. Once they had kicked her out she had waited outside an hour more. Now it was dark and late and she sure as hell wasn't waiting for the bus. Hot tears had already begun to build in her eyes, fueled by a cocktail of anger, humiliation, and anxiousness. Shuffling feet kicked up a candy bar wrapper watching as another chilly gust sent it flying down an alleyway.

"Becky?"

A startle squeal erupted from her lips before she could quiet herself. Strangely silent with no protest at the use of what she often deemed a babyish nickname she turned and peered into the dark alley. The shadows were too thick to make out any shape. Again the voice called out to her.

"Becky? Snowflake1291?"

"Tommy? Is that you? What happened I thought you said nine?"

A smile crossed her features…he had come after all. She walked into the open mouth of the alleyway still smiling.

* * *

She knew she should stop this. Knew she very well could at that. She didn't though. She sat in the dark of the alley opposite chewing a stolen candy bar that tasted more plastic than chocolate. Artificial sweet gunk smeared her fingers, licked away with slow deliberation, not knowing when the next opportunity to eat would be. She should've grabbed something better from the blacktrinian's cart…should've known that American chocolate would suck here too.

Fingers clean she stared back at the scene before her. The blue and grey eyes the same from before but different, the pupils slanted and reptilian in a way, old and young, and above all else sad. She should stop this and save the girl…she knew she should. But she made no move to. Ryce's face dragged down into a deep thoughtful frown. It was for the greater good…there were rules to be followed, even if she questioned their logic. Even if she felt physically ill by allowing this to occur. Her father had warned her of the sacrifices ahead…she steeled her mind against what her father would call her silly human heart.

She let the girl be taken.


	3. Chapter 3

-Disclamer: Do I have to put this in front of every chapter? Ryce is mine all else is not. It is 12:28 pm on June 3…let's see if I can get this under the 3-month mark this time.

* * *

"Scalpel wake Gauntlet up…"

"Not a chance…he tried to bite me last time."

Robin frowned, masked eyes narrowing in displeasure. Seeing as everyone else had elected his or her own modes of transportation, be it flying, shimmer induced swinging, or floating rock, and Cyborg was driving, the task fell to him. A glance at the blond, found him with his exhaustion-bagged eyes shut, head dangling backwards off the seat, and mouth agape. Had the bird themed hero not been donning his mask one would see bags under his eyes as well, and yet he wasn't napping every 3 minutes. One would think the blaring alarm ripping through the tower minutes earlier would have jarred him enough to keep him conscious for more than a quarter of an hour. A gloved hand reached back to shake Gauntlet back into the land of the living.

"Wake up Gauntlet…we're not on a road trip we're going to a scene!"

A loud grating snort of a snore was the only response, his head tilting slightly beginning to drool on the mouthpiece of the communication head set they each wore.

Lovely…it really was a wonder he was single.

"Just leave him in the car…put the child lock on and crack a window."

"Not helping Savior."

From the console of the car the white garbed meta looked up at his team mates, the city rushing behind him in dizzying distorted flashes. Every so often another Titan would flash by the background in a splash of orange, purple, or green. For a moment, Tim pondered how wise it was to be holding the communicator in one hand and using the shimmer to launch himself through Jump City with the other. Before he could question it though Noel's attention turned to Victor and asked, "What frequency is he on?"

"Savior you really should pay attention to where you're going."

"He's on channel 14 Savior…What are y…"

Before Vic could even finish the statement the ear phones on Robert's head set began to screech and whine with feedback. Bloodshot eyes snapped open and the artifact weilding youth flailed sideways head first into vehicle's side window. All three of the other passengers cringed at the thwacking sound of his face smacking off of it. Tim could only sigh as a string of curses tumbled out of Rob's mouth, metal encased hand clutching the spot on his skull that had just richoeted off the glass.

"There…now he's awake…"

"What is your malfunction you malformed caricture of Japanese animation?!"

"My problem is we are heading into a fight and you are actually **sleeping**! Wake the hell up or go home."

"Dayum…who pissed in your cornflakes this morning!?"

"What?!"

"It's just an expression Nigel."

"Oh…well…it's still disgusting Robin."

"Actually Gauntlet I didn't have breakfast…no one did…because there are still no dishes to eat off of because lo and behold you **still** don't bother to do anything useful!"

"Oh I'm so sorry…I was just busy fixing the hole in the wall from when you decided to launch the clicker at me!"

Somewhere on the comline Terra muttering, "Isn't it a little early for a lover's quarrel?"

"I should not have to ask you six times to turn the volume down!"

"Guy this really isn't the time for this…"

"Uptight jackass!"

"Irresponsible halfwit!"

"WINDOW!"

"What? Oh shi-"

The video screen cut away in a haze of blurs to the musical crash of shattering glass. The picture tumbled and jolted in a chaos of colors before come to rest on the cork like patterns of ceiling panels commonly found in most offices. Robin sighed putting his hand over his eyes for a moment ignoring the triumphant grin on Gauntlet's face, which quite clearly screamed I win. Finally Nigel leaned forward and clicked the screen off before the bickering could start again.

Today was going to be awesome.

* * *

"Is that…"

"…Yes..."

"But didn't we beat him…"

"At least 3 or 4 times."

"Assuming fire exintguishers are probably useless now?

"Probably."

"Dearest Robin, are we getting a new teamma-"

"Over my dead body."

"HEY IT'S MORTIMER!"

……

"What?"

"Little late on the uptake there Gauntlet?"

A large wad of amorphous goo dripped sluggishly onto the cement from the awning under which they were standing. Nigel frowned and took a sizable step backwards to avoid any other dripping that may occur. Weary eyes were all watching as what appeared to be an overgrown living oil slick shoved a car into what they could only assume was his mouth. It slid into the sludge with a slow sucking sound, sinking into the just barely translucent body before coming to rest in its middle, like an over sized grape in a bowl of jello. Not noticing the familiar group standing a few dozen yards down wind of him, he twisted around and oozed his way over to a street light. A large belch splattered the cement below with more gobs of slime. Each Titan watched on with mingling expressions of annoyance, disgust, and apprehension.

Hand snatching up a disk from belt around his waist, Robin flicked his wrist and with a clean slicing noise the explosive blade popped open, ready for use. At least Morty was calmer this time around. Destructive still? Yes of course…but without screaming people panicking at his feet (or lack there of) the smashing and bashing seemed to have tampered off. Thank god for police barricades at least. Better to get this started before he noticed them.

"Beast Boy, get Cyborg some air so he can come from above with a freezing blast from one side. Starfire and I will follow behind and hit him with some heat. See if we can knock some of him apart without setting him on fire. Raven and Savior can try to hold him steady in case he starts to rampage again….Terra try not to rip up the street this time around and…."

"Hey how about I try…"

"Gauntlet you help Raven and Savior. Attempting to convert the bad guy to Mormonism did not work last week it is not going to work this week so don't try it."

"Actually it was Judaism."

"Do. Not. Do. It."

"Okay okay…don't have to get all Shatner-y on me."

Raven glanced to her right and noticed the growing look on her boyfriend's face as he watched Robin and Gauntlet's banter. Patience shields were at around 30 or so percent she'd gather. It had been hard enough to keep him from swinging down to the street and throttling the blond after they managed to remove him from that office some fifteen minutes ago. That is after they reassured those rather angry Japanese businessmen that their window would in fact be fixed by tomorrow morning. Violet eyes noticed that there were still a few twinkling powdered glass fragments in his hair. Probably better not to point them out at the moment.

"Okay…everyone know the game plan? Alright…Titans G-"

"Oh damn…"

The former boy wonder glanced to the side to find Nigel looking down at his clawed feet. Confused, the rest followed his gaze and found what appeared to be a long dripping coil of sludge wrapped around the ankle staining the red pants leg with its residue. It seems the glop of sludge that had trickled down the awning wasn't quite as dead as they thought it. Following the coil they found Mortimer leering in their direction, managing in spite of his being composed of amorphous goo to look rather annoyed.

The Titans stared.

Mortimer stared back.

…Before roaring and retracting the extending limb roped around the blacktrinian's ankle dragging him along the road with it. Several garbled curses were cawed out in his native language as glowing blue canon blasts flew overhead and white gauzy strands of shimmer attempted to lash out after him. They had just managed to brush the back of his jacket when with squelching gulp he disappeared into Mortimer's base. Rearing his bulk back ever so slightly the creature appeared to take a deep wet sounding breath before spitting the alien out into the air. The group traced his pattern across the sky as Robert called after him.

"Think happy thoughts Scalpel!"

A collective cringe as he landed about two blocks away skidding across the pavement. His glaive clashing and clanking further than his crumpled body. Tim shook his head…

"Titans just…go…whatever..."

* * *

_  
__-__click. Flash__-_…_-__click. Flash__-_…_-__click. Flash__-_

Okay…maybe it wasn't the time for pictures. Ryce couldn't help it. Well she could she supposed, but that was neither here nor there. In the same spirit she "couldn't help it" that she was standing here at all, the nearly illegible doctor's scrawl across the camera clicking away and bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet like an over excited kid. It wasn't against the rules per say. Her father would understand. After all, what else was she supposed to do while she waited? After his instructions about the girl he'd gone silent. Wait for the second arrival and then she could act. He wasn't responding to her queries now though…which in a way wasn't anything new.

Besides if she sat still for too long she'd begin to think…and that thinking would lead to nothing good. She'd think of why she was here. She'd think of where she had come from. She'd think of a thirteen-year-old kid who was still smiling as she crumpled to the pavement like a wet paper doll. Think of her father talking about sacrificing for the greater good and she'd question if that mattered to Rebecca Sta…

Shaking her head violently, Ryce cleared her thoughts. She was doing it again. Don't get your heart wrapped up in it a voice that sounded suspiciously like her father snapped in her head. Besides he'd make contact before it was too late…nothing that bad would happen, he'd given her his word on it. She lifted her camera again and focused on the colorful group. Ignoring the thought that her being here right now was pressing the rules to the breaking point. As long as she didn't get involved and no interaction…everything was a-okay right?

I mean it was the _Titans_.

She raised the camera to her good eye once more preparing to take another snap of the group down the block, when a raucous cry went up into the air…followed by the person that made the cry himself. Dropping the lens from her face ever so slightly she watched as the grey skinned alien came crashing down a few yards in front of her, sludge causing his trademark red outfit to stick to his body. His weapon of choice skittered away from the outstretched metal hand, finally coming to rest at the edge of her shoes.

…Well…maybe just a little interaction then?

* * *

"Ugh…mental note…when being dragged into sludge monster…close mouth."

Somewhere behind his heaped form Nigel was dimly aware of the sounds of his teammates rushing at the aggravated blob. The buzz of cannon fire, hissing hot star bolts, the cry of whatever bird of prey Beast Boy had morphed into, and above it all the sucking guttural roar of one angry Mortimer. A hacking cough expelled what he could of the residue from his mouth and lungs, trying to ignore the slightly sour, rotted taste it left behind. Sore limbs stretched and muscles strained at their maltreatment as he attempted to disentangle himself. The Blacktrinian race was not built for air born launches, even less so when covered in sticky foul smelling muck. He was not looking forward to spending the rest of this battle smelling like low tide at the pier.

Hand adjusting the sludge soaked hat on his head he glanced about on the ground, trying to find his trusty glaive. What his eyes finally came upon struck him with a rather eerie sense of deja-vu. Brown boots…comfortably worn in…jeans tucked into their tops. Once again his eyes trailed up. She was dressed the same as she had been in the store, dark jeans a plain white collared shirt with a small tight vest buttoned up over it. The only difference this time around was the scrawny arms straining to hold up his glaive with both hands as opposed to a can of juice.

"You dropped this."

"Ryce…"

"Yay for remembering me."

"This place isn't safe…"

"No I'd imagine it's not…"

"How'd you get past the police?"

"With kinetic energy…"

An inward groan at her being deliberately obtuse. Black and blue eyes took notice of the camera dangling around her neck, his own signature flashing back at him as it swung slightly. She had a few more effects added to her outfit now he saw. A thin slightly tarnishing chain hung from her neck, the end of it slipped into her shirt hiding most of it from view. A small button on the right side of her vest, an earthen symbol he recognized but couldn't name, half white half black, with a small dot of the other at opposite ends. The other side with 2 more pin buttons one reading "Stick Around. Things Get Much Stranger" while the other said nothing and contained a single symbol. Similar to the sign meant to distinguish the female gender…but the circular top much narrower. His eyes focused on it a before he heard her clearing her throat.

"Yea…um…Scalpel this thing is kinda heavy…"

"Oh!"

He relieved her straining arms of the large bladed weapon, having finally noticed the pained expression on her face. Relief flooded it the second the weight fell from her hands into his. Truth be told he was surprised she was able to pick it up and hold it for as long as she had, considering her stature. Probably barely 100 pound soaking wet, she could not have been more than 5'1" even with the boots on and he had a feeling that was a generous estimate. Images of flying shrapnel and sludge soaked airborne debris and the effect their collision would have on her filled his mind's eye. Not very pretty. He opened his mouth to say so but her attention had already shifted. Gaze focused now at the fight occurring behind him, eager eyes twitching this way and that trying to follow it, like some sort of tennis match.

"Ryce…you can't stay here. You might get in the way."

"Don't worry about me. I'm the youngest in a very VERY large family…if there is anything I'm good at…it is staying out of the way."

"…That's not what I meant…"

She wasn't listening…back to clicking away with her camera, fingers fiddling with the controls every so often. That is until the lens suddenly became awash in red. A glance up at the much taller man standing in front of her, she frowned at his blocking her view.

"You need to leave Ryce."

"…five more minutes?"

"No."

She was still frowning up at him, eyes locked with his defiantly. It lasted all of five seconds though. Shoulders slumped ever so slightly in defeat, and she mumbled what sounded like okay I'll leave. Nigel watched as she turned and began to trek away from the fight turning the corner quickly. Soon the clicking of her worn boots faded from even his ears. Part of him couldn't help but feel bad for her disappointment even if it was for the best. Another roar brought him back to the right mindset, swiftly ducking down as a large black gob of Mortimer flew over his head. Switching gears in an instant he launched himself back into the fight, which had begun to move his way, thoughts of young fans with a habit of lying far from his mind.

* * *

"Beast Boy!"

The green argentavis gave a glance downwards at his cybernetic friend, beating its wings harshly as he dodged yet another projected wad of sludge. Another cold hot blast from the cannon attached to Victor's arm, even as far away as his face was he could still feel the chill of it through his feathers. He could only imagine what being on the receiving end of it must feel like. Judging from the howl that ripped up from Morty? It wasn't refreshing. A swift dive around Mortimer's bulk, to keep them away from sight as he flailed and thrashed. Burning pins of pain shot up and down his wings as he tried to stay airborne, he couldn't keep this up for long. Vic wasn't exactly a light weight. Below he could hear Robin call out.

"Cyborg! Aim for the eyes!"

"Beast Boy I need ya to get me more height!"

"And I need you to lose about 50 pounds in the next 5 seconds," he muttered before attempting to do what was asked. Managing to catch a small gust of wind he angled his wings enough to get a little more height. Whipping his arm up once more Cyborg took aim at the top of Mortimer's head, cannon already charging.

On the ground Raven hovered chanting quietly every so often to send a black glowing object hurtling into his form from the right. Behind him Terra doing her best not to destroy the street entirely did the same, which while not damaging Mortimer to any great extent was keeping him aggravated enough to hold his attention away from extinct green bird hovering out of his field of vision. Trying to steady his arm and account for the up and down bobbing of Gar's efforts to stay airborne, Cyborg mentally counted down the seconds left for the cannon charge.

"Time for you to chill out Morty."

That is it would be if the end of his cannon wasn't suddenly encased in glue like sludge. They barely had time to register that the rudimentary features that made up the sludge creature's face had sunken into his head before they popped out the back to stare at them. Jerking back with unexpected swiftness he had hawked a gob of himself upwards at them, at the final seconds of the countdown coating and clogging the business end of ice blasting weaponry. There was a look of blank and oddly comical surprise on Vic's face as he had just enough time to look down at his arm sensor to read the words "System Overload" before a small popping noise could be heard from within the metal appendage.

"Well that ain't good."

In a second the weapon went from giving off minuscule sparks to giving off a not so miniscule explosion. The blast intended for the side of their enemy's head having nowhere to go wreaked havoc where it could within the very weapon it was fired from. Both Vic and Gar let out a caw of surprise before the green Meta felt the heat baking into taloned feet. A bird like caw became a high pitched human howl, reflexively transforming back to himself, "Hot foot Hot foot!!!" Both Titans crashed rudely to the ground. Meanwhile above their heads Morty gave a roar of agitated pain as flames from the twisted and melted metal that was once part of Victor's ice cannon began to coat the left side of his body.

"Head's up!"

Yellow energy spanned over those closest to the sludge as Mortimer gave a heaving shake, sending the flaming chunks of his body flying like an oversized toxic dog. Mortimer was not happy seeing the Titans who had been badgering him spared the lethal shower of half cooked chunks of sludge. His attention turned to the source of the glowing golden shield, glowering down as his immense shadow fell over Gauntlet. With a goofy grin the blond pulled a pamphlet version of _The Watchtower_ out of his back pocket.

"Hello brother! Have you heard the glorious word of-"

* * *

He had just enough time to form a shield in the shape of a fork around his body when Mortimer's fist came crashing down towards his head.

"Damn it…you just told him 20 minutes ago not to-"

"Right now Savior if it's keeping his attention off of us… I don't care if Gauntlet strips down and does the Chicken Dance naked."

"Dude for the sake of my eyesight…don't give him any ideas."

At his mumbling request Robin glanced over at Garfield who was at the moment resting on the ground fanning a crispy burnt and aggrieved foot. Already Tim could see signs of exhaustion reflecting back at him from his team. They needed to find something else to do here, some other mode of attack. As good at being an obnoxious pest as he was, Robert couldn't be expected to hold Mortimer's attention forever.

Masked eyes scanned the streets. Freezing him was out with Cyborg's ice cannon jutting out of his arm like some sort of bad example of abstract art. Fire had proven time and time again to not work. Blowing him up while effective the first time was not an option unless they wanted to cause a few million dollars in damages to these office buildings and luring him away to do so would take time and energy he doubt his team had. There had to be something, he thought before taking notice of the only lot on this block without a fully built structure in it. Construction equipment strewn about, abandoned in haste during the neighborhood's evacuation over an hour ago. It was not the equipment that had caught his eye though.

"Terra!"

* * *

"Okay…so maybe Jehovah isn't your thing? How about Vishnu?"

A wet growl was the only answer he got, as Mortimer took another swipe at him, and the twenty or so pamphlets he had in his hand. A quick duck and roll kept him from direct contact, causing the monster to overbalance and come crashing with an oozy splash unto the pavement. He stood with just enough time to see Mortimer's' features to reform from the shapelessness.

"Well what about Frisbeetarianism then?"

In a quick swoop Mortimer was about a foot away from his face. The stare lasted all of two seconds before he sucked in a deep breath and let out a roar of rage, spraying him with a fine raining mist of rancid smell sludge. The stench reminded Robert of an interesting combo of Starfire's cooking and salty rotten oranges. The shrieking bellow tapered off, into a hateful growl.

"Well obviously you don't follow Surak's teaching..."

A Gauntlet empowered leap sent him well enough out of harm's way once more. Several tendril shots of sludge were flung at him, splattering against both the Gauntlet shield he placed in front of himself and the building's awning over his head, coating them thickly with slime. When the hosing of sludge ceased, 2 small blades of yellow energy formed over the existing shield, swiping back and forth over it, flinging gobs of it this way and that. Grinning from behind the windshield wipers he called out,

"Missed me!"

…why was Mortimer grinning?

Somewhere above the green and white awning came a low cracking groan. Curiously, Robert glanced up head cocked to the side ever so slightly. His eyes widened in realization just as and abandoned window washer's scaffolding came crashing through the awning and on top of him.

The grating wet noise that could possibly be a chuckle rose up from Mortimer's form once more. With almost a leisurely pace he slid forward into the street, prepared to finish the job the scaffolding had started. The chuckle ripped out his throat into a furious roar however when a large blast of green energy ripped through the upper part of his head while simultaneously a small Volkswagen ricocheted off his side. Body twisting he found the purple garbed orange one floating some yards away green eyes glowing. The other grey alien stood on his opposite side, ready to launch what appeared to have once been a hot dog stand. Lurching forward with a growl he reached for the orange girl first, as she ducked and weaved mid air just out of his reach.

Meanwhile, the artifact-wielding arm attached to Robert Candide poked out from beneath the rubble. A gloved hand shot out and grasped the bent fingers and aided in extracting the youth from beneath. Splinters of wood littered his blond hair, eyes crossing ever so slightly as he attempted to keep his balance, only half aware as their team's leader patted him on the back.

"Good job Gauntlet!"

Words would probably have been the appropriate sort of response. And maybe he had been trying to speak when he just sort of toppled backwards unto the debris he had just been pulled from. Robin grimaced a bit when he was answered with a groan, eyes darting every so often to Starfire as she lured Mortimer further and further towards the construction site.

"You alright?"

"Ju…st…a flesh…wound…"

"Good…Cyborg! Terra! On my mark!" he called into the communicator, masked eyes narrowing on the hulking sludge composed mass, back turned to Gauntlet. A brief crackle of static as Robert continued to mumble.

"…and a few…ugh…broken…ribs."

"Ready and waiting Birdboy."

"Just say the word."

"…on second thought…I think...I ruptured something…"

"Okay! 5…4…3…2…"

"I…taste pennies…is anyone even listening?"

"NOW!"

Just as a sludge composed claw had taken one final swipe at the darting Tamaranean, a large bag flew like a bullet from his left. The canvas burst open on impact and a shower of grey powder and dust flew over the reaching limb. Attention turned swiftly away to find, Terra standing atop a large floating rock, hands glowing yellow. Floating around her were dozens of the same bags, but only for a second before the rocketed towards him, some bursting open on impact, some driving into his body to tear open and leak out inside. It was not pain he began to snarl and roar in but annoyance, trying to tear through the thick grey cloud formed around him by the barrage of bags. The dark surface of his body was turned grey as the strange dust and powder stuck to him.

"Looks like someone could use a shower!"

Across the street Victor aimed one of his non-destroyed cannons at the red hydrant by his side abruptly blasting the side cap right off. A torrent of water burst out and blasted Mortimer's base. After a second or so, with the help of a few whispered words from Raven, the gush began to glow black before surging up into his face as well. As soon as it started however the hosing down ceased, the nozzle through which it was spraying glowing black.

The thick grey residue that had been dusted all over Mortimer lay against his form now in a grey and lumpy gunk, not washed off by the hydrant but made thick and heavy by it. A small green bird flew into his field of vision landing on a telephone pole beside him before sticking its tongue out. Enraged by this mocking Mortimer launched a slightly slower flying limb at the Titan, never noticing how much protracted his reactions were progressively getting as he flailed about trying to grasp at any of the bobbing and weaving teens.

For minutes this went on. A Titan would gain his attention, taunt him in someway before ducking away just out of his reach. Each minute that ticked by the cement mixture hardening both inside his form and outside, slowing his strikes and making his body feel heavier and heavier. Above it all Savior watched carefully, notifying the team below ever few minutes of Mortimer's decreasing mobility.

"It's working Robin. The cement is hardening and slowing him down."

"Good. When he's immobile we'll get some people in here to cart him away."

"Want me to take someone's place distracting him."

"No…I think we're okay down here just keep an eye out for anything unusual up by you. Over and out."

Blue eyes scanned the fight below carefully, noting that Mortimer was moving slower yet still, sucking in air almost panting as he took another swipe at Raven. With what seemed like a half effort he launched a grey mottled slab of himself after her only for it to fall short and splattered uselessly against the ground. It wouldn't be too long before Mortimer was incapable of movement or just too tired to bother.

He was about to swing down when he noticed the tiny little flash two blocks or so down. The flicker of light reflecting off of some surface. Reflexively he looked over towards it, expecting to see a piece of shrapnel or glass broken in Mortimer's flailing. What he did see however was neither metal nor glass…

"You have got to be kidding me."

A surge of anger flooded Savior at first, seeing the camera that was seemingly glued to the figure's one eye. He wondered how exactly the press had managed to not only get past the police barricade but also how boldly stupid they were to come in this close to the fight itself. Part of him had a mind to simply let the person go on snapping shots and get crushed by whatever Mortimer threw at them in his final throws of anger. It would serve them right. It would save the Titans the headlines in tomorrow's rags accusing them of destroying city property needlessly once again. Even as the thought entered his mind though he was descending. The others were keeping a progressively slower Mortimer from thrashing about too heavily so he had time to get this twit to safety…and perhaps read them the riot act in the process.

He landed on the asphalt some 20 feet to the person's left, already trying to grab a hold at whatever patience he had left. Lecturing was one thing…it would do no good if he smashed another news crew's camera. Titans making the headlines was bad…Savior making them was worse.

Except this wasn't the media.

For one thing she was too small to be the press. The girl had be in her early to mid teens, slight of build, blond with bangs sweeping down over the right side of her forehead. While his indignant and mildly self-righteous anger was ebbing away, he still could not wrap him mind around this girl's lack of common sense.

"Are you out of your mind kid?"

He had her attention now at least, as she twisted around. An offended glimmer was on her face, no doubt at being called a kid by someone who was not that much older than herself. Then again it wouldn't be the first time someone thought him pretentious. As soon as she actually saw who it was addressing her though, the look changed. Eyes widened a bit, a small flush of pink flew across the bridge of her nose and her body gave the slightest twitch of tension. Noel gave an annoyed sigh as he stared back, a single eyebrow quirked up.

She was young all right, but nowhere near as young as he had first thought from afar -he pinned her now into her later teenaged years-, just undersized and scrawny. She wasn't Tara skinny per say, her frame reminded him of an underfed puppy. Then again that look on her face might have added to that image. Noel broke out his patented "I so wish I were Batman" glare.

"Time to lea-"

_-__click. Flash__-_

…okay Batman stare ineffective. A few multicolored dots flicked before his eyes. She lowered the camera slightly still silently looking at him, though now with a probably rather unflattering picture of him talking. Before she could be tempted to lift the camera up again a lens cap of shimmer obscured the view. Then he saw the scrawling signature on its side, and the girl clicked into place.

"You're the girl from the food store…Reese was it?"

"Ryce actually…"

"No more pictures…you have to leave. Now."

"Why?"

"As I'm sure you noticed, considering your incessant clicking, there is a 50 foot sludge aberration about 2 blocks down from here wreaking havoc on anything within the surrounding area."

"That is now hardening into a 50 foot statue of a sludge aberration 2 blocks down. And it will be wreaking on…well nothing…'cause it will be a statue."

"Ryce…"

"Last I checked statues weren't dangerous"

"Ryce."

"That is unless someone drops one on you. Sooo…The cement mix…That was a great idea…Robin's?""

"Are you deaf?"

"No. I'm half blind. Why do you ask?"

"…"

"If I take another picture right now you'll probably break my camera won't you?"

"Yes. Now leave."

"You've yet to give me a good reason why."

"Because I said so."

"That's just illogical..."

She was smiling at him however slightly, now. He could see it in her eyes though that she was enjoying this little banter immensely; both the blue and its grayish twin sparkling with humor. She's just a kid his inner thoughts tried to whisper, just a silly kid. It became a mantra in which he ignored that she could have easily have been only a few years his junior. He opened his mouth once more to try his damnedest to calmly tell their one girl fan club why standing here was unacceptable. If this didn't work then he'd move her himself.

A roar of rage came from behind him followed by what sounded like a small explosion. In his frustration Mortimer had flung himself backwards into the half finished frame of the construction site. Metal groaned almost mournfully under the bulk of his hardening body, before a beam snapped clear in half. The Titans below scattered to avoid the falling debris, shrapnel being tossed this way and that from the collapsing structure, fling up and down the street.

A white gloved hand lashed out and seized the girl by the shoulder, his mind momentarily shocked by the bones that strained against her flesh beneath that shirt. A swift push launched her down unto her backside as a piece of pipe pierced into the air that her head had inhabited. His face first one of concern and upon seeing her unharmed, the concern melted leaving only his frayed and all but gone patience for the girl. Looking up sheepishly and mildly shamed from the ground he felt a pang of sympathy…but not enough to save her from the rant about to take place.

But then, her mollified expression was gone. Bi colored eyes snapped open wide as she yelled out to him in alarm. He didn't have time to turn his head to see the flat, sharp-edged disk of metal slicing through the air at his head.

All at once the world had come to a stop. Wide eyes stared back at him in a quiet horror as her hands quickly shot up to her mouth. The camera she had been so diligently clicking away with toppled over itself, first into her lap and then unto the ground below, bouncing with a clacking noise. The shimmer strands that caught the twisted chunk of scrap that had once been a stop sign did not drop the shrapnel so much as it slipped from its grasp, reflecting the same surprise that was written all over its host's face. The girl scrambled backwards quickly -crab like- and stood, her mismatched eyes never leaving his.

It shouldn't have been a big deal…she had just been trying to warn him…needless considering how the shimmer made a seemingly subconscious effort to protect him. Many forgot this fact…so calling out in the heat of the moment to warn him should not have been a big deal. Except it was. The fact that she had messed up big time was etched into every corner of her face. He could see it in the way she was slowly backpedaling away. He could hear it in the whisper of her words.

"Oh shi-"

All at once his vision filled with a flower of reds, yellows, oranges and grey. The quiet whisper of her curse cut out by the shrieking of the tossed pick-up truck's metal, the whooshing rush of the flames that covered it, and the explosion of glass as sparkling shards of the windshield littered the ground. Somewhere behind him he could hear Mortimer crying out feebly, could hear his team mates calling to one another as the battle appeared to be winding down with Morty's last truck launch.

Shimmer strands fired out and hooked into the building across the street. In one quick swing he cleared the truck, ignoring the flash of heat that emitted up from it. Feet came crashing roughly down on the already softening asphalt, absently kicking the abandoned camera sending it skittering away from the devouring heat. She was already gone, the grey and black smoke belching out from the ruined vehicle obscuring any view of her escape. He had to find her. Because even though this should not have mattered...it did. Because this girl…Nigel's new little "friend" hadn't yelled out Savior had she?

No, she'd called out Noel.

* * *

"Now that…is one ugly piece of art."

Nigel nodded mutely in agreement, his eyes resting on Mortimer's barely twitching and nearly rock hard form. Gauntlet stood beside him still wincing once in awhile as he moved, a bruise looking suspiciously like the handle of a squeegee imprinted across his forehead. Behind them they could hear Vic and Gar bickering back and forth in regards to the Ice cannon mishap.

"Hey Beast Boy how's 'bout not transforming back mid flight next time?"

"Are you serious!?"

"You dropped me you pointed-eared hobgoblin!"

"Damn it Vic I'm a shifter not flame repellent! You set me on fire!"

The blacktrinian rolled his eyes in his head, making a note to check Garfield's foot later for burns. Also added to that medical list would have been Gauntlet given his complaining some 15 minutes prior. But either the guy was swift to recover or had been playing up his pain as he certainly had the energy to wander over to where Star and Robin were observing Mortimer. Here he promptly formed a large stick of golden energy and proceeded to poke the cement encased sludge monster over and over. He could hear Robin alternating between contacting the proper authorities and telling Robert to knock it off, and above that Gar's voice, which was slowly creeping into the territory of whining.

"Dude you are so lucky I didn't jus- Woah!"

There was no time to turn around to see what caused the green youth's exclamation. Nor did it really matter since said cause nearly barreled straight into Nigel's back. Whipping around he was shocked to find a sputtering wheezing Ryce stumbling backwards, looking over her shoulder at the billowing grey smoke. Her blind side was facing him and she didn't even seem to notice them at all. He had no doubt that she had just run through that cloud of smoldering smoke, it had left stains of soot on her face.

"Ryce!? What are…I thought…didn't I just tell you to…"

He may have continued to sputter like this if not for the troubling noise emerging from her. Instantly his eyes narrowed into anxious slits as he listened to the sound of her breathing. Each breath a hissing rattle, some punctuated by a weak, narrow-throated cough, a hand was absently pulling at her collar, another digging furiously into her pockets, both appendages tremoring, violently. Concerned and curious the man watched her finally pull the inhaler from her pants. The hissing rattle of her lungs, now weakened to a high pitched gasping noise, whistling disturbingly making a strained "eeee" noise each time, he could see tears building in her eyes as she tried desperately to gasp. Automatically he snatched the inhaler from her trembling and at the moment useless hands, a clawed hand bringing it up to her mouth.

"Breath," he instructed compressing the top for her, sending a dose of it into her struggling lungs. She complied easily enough eyes finally ceasing in their frantic darting to focus on him, one still shaking hand coming over his own as he held the inhaler in place. The doctor in him taking over he waited until she released a shaky breath and pumped the compressor one more time. A few seconds passed and then another shaky slightly less labored exhale. She took a few experimental breaths on her own, still weak, but not as alarmingly shallow.

"You have asthma…BAD asthma if this is any indication…and you go running through a car fire!? Ryce you could get yourself killed! I told you to leave over a half an hour ago! What's wrong with you?"

She pulled away shaking and nodding her head frantically, eyes once again were darting back over her shoulder at the flames, above her head at the sky. Nigel wondered what had exactly set this much panic into her as she began to ramble weakly barely stopping to catch the breath she desperately needed.

"You are one hundred and ten percent correct! I shouldn't be here, I should not have stayed I should have listened to you the first time! I'm so sorry Nigel I really am! I'm so fucking stupid…Bad Ryce! Bad bad bad Ryce! I'm going to get right the hell out of h-"

"What did you just call me?"

She fell silent and stared at him confused. Then a look of utter disbelief crossed over her face. Slowly, she shook her head from side to side as if denying her own words.

"I…I called you Scalpel."

"No you didn't…you called me Nigel."

Panic was flashing in her eyes now; she was backpedaling away from him. Those eyes had changed from their earlier, excitable twinkle into that of a cornered animal. Her head shook from side to side in denial a little more strongly, as she whispered crudely, "Oh fuck me…" under her troubled breath, confirming that he had not in fact misheard her.

"How do you know my name Ryce?"

"I-I…"

"Scalpel grab her!"

Blue and black eyes darted upwards to see Noel coming up and over the smoke, white energy flowing up and around a ledge of the building near by. The white clad meta's gaze fixed on the teenager in front of him. It took him only a second to register what Noel was shouting at him, but it was enough for her. In a flash she had turned and bolted off into a narrow alleyway a thin hand sending a trash can clattering behind her with a crash. Without thinking he tucked the plastic inhaler into his pocket and took off after her, Savior following close behind.

* * *

_Stupid Stupid STUPID BITCH!_

She could not even begin to comprehend how much she had messed up. For chrissake she had said not just one but TWO of their names all in the span of 5 minutes. It was if all at once her mind and gone completely blank, as if she had forgotten EVERYTHING she knew about the rules of engagement. Lungs burning viciously in her chest she flung herself at a fence clamoring up it quickly and falling into a heap on its opposite side. Fire was smoldered in her chest and legs begging her to stop, to rest.

She couldn't simply out run either of them, that much she knew. They were faster…stronger. The wheezing of her breath was beginning to return to that horrid high pitched strangle, and with another wave of horror she realized that she had left her puffer behind. She couldn't keep running, couldn't keep this pace. She had no choice.

Quickly she slammed her functioning eye shut, the overcast twin glowing slightly in the dark alleyway. For that brief flash the blind eye was all but gone in the bluish glow. To her left a locked door gave a loud click. As soon as it appeared the glow faded and she threw her meager bodyweight into the entry full force, turning the latch with one shaking hand. The entryway lurched open with a bang and she slammed it shut behind her, locking it once more. Her eye glowed again and the trashcans that had stood on the other side of the door toppled over to block the locked entrance. Trembling she leaned her weight back into the locked paneling, ear pressed up against it. A minute or so ticked by in silence. Soon enough she could hear the muffled clacking of metal against the cement alleyway, the softer thumping of Noel's sneakered feet landing beside them.

"Could she have gone into one of the buildings?"

He skin tightened as the knob inches from her hand shook.

"The doors are locked Scalpel…from the inside. This one's block off anyway She must have ducked down into one of the other corners. I'll call in the others…she can't have gone far. We'll fan out and track her do-"

"Savior…she's just a kid not a criminal! If we track her like this it's just going to frighten her more."

"I don't give a damn if she's frightened Nigel! She knew my name…not Savior but my real name…she YELLED it. She knew yours too I bet judging from the look on your face before she flew off. Do you really still think the grocery thing was a coincidence? That you just happened to run into some random fan that knew EVERYTHING about us? How does "just a kid" know this much? Something isn't right here…we can't just let her off with how much she obviously knows. It puts us all at risk."

"I don't think she means us harm."

"Then why run? If she means us no harm then why is she running?"

"While I know this must be amusing coming from me of all people…she is probably running because quite honestly you are a frightening person Noel…"

Behind the locked door Ryce roughly stuffed her first into her mouth biting down on the knuckle. She had taken to holding her breath, knowing that damn wheezing would give her away and now she was attempting to stifle the hysterical bubble of laughter building in her chest. Her shoulders twitched and shook silently. If she laughed they'd find her…for a brief moment she was utterly convinced if she started laughing she'd never stop. Beyond the door they continued talking.

"We have to find her Nigel…"

"I know…but…just _**try**_ to approach this diplomatically Noel…"

There was no answer to this that she could hear. Just the muffled mutterings that she was sure was a call out to the others. Outside the door the clacking of Nigel's feet sounded until that too faded. Experimentally she removed her hand from her mouth taking in the tiniest of breaths through her nose. Their scent was weakening…they had left.

In her chest her heart thudded viciously, part of her surprised that they hadn't somehow heard it even through the thick brick walls. The tears caused by her labored breath and silent hysterics had left clean wet trails through the black smudges of smog on her face, which she whipped at absently. She had to get away from here…they'd all be looking before long. They'd find her too of that fact she had no doubt. It was too early though…she had to wait still.

Limbs faintly tingling with pins and needles she straightened, walking slowly across the wood floor of the vacant building. Around her the clacking of her boots echoed louder and louder. Each click of her heels echoing back a split second later, sounding as if someone was walking just out of sync somewhere behind her. She knew she was alone…but it didn't matter. She abandoned attempts for calm, and bolted towards the door on the opposite of the room, jerking her head back as she ran to watch over her shoulder. Nothing was there of course and damn it she _**knew**_ that but the panic had gotten hold and she couldn't shake it as it sank its fangs into her heart. Roughly she slammed once more into a solid door, letting it bang open before her. Sun light blinded her eye in and explosion of white as she tore out full speed into the alleyway.

Then suddenly the world was upside down, as she collided with something. Head over heels she flipped over to the ground feeling whatever it was she had so clumsily run into give way. The sun glare fled with just enough time for her to see the black porous pavement inches away from her face. There was no moment to bring her hands up, the momentum of her sprint sending her skidding on the ground. The top of her fore head singed out in pain as it cracked against the ground, skin scrapping off in a raw gash.

Pain shot up through the flesh of her scalp pulsing white hot and sharp behind her shut eyelids. Carefully she opened her eyes to see bright flashes of black and white lights dancing in her field of vision just above the pavement. Her eyes crossed for a second focusing on the tiny red splatters of blood that had dripped delicately to the alley floor. All else from that one eye was a blur, as her hands tried to feel out the location of the missing glasses.

The pain throbbing in her head was immense; blood was trickling down into both eyes now, stinging. Her fingers graced the frames and a sigh fell from her lips, focusing intently on the pain in her head as she lifted the battered and half broken spectacles from the ground. Gingerly, she pulled herself up and sat. The torn and bloody gash over her eyes burned and itched furiously the skin tight and hot, sharp pain and pressure accompanying at the base of her skull. Absently she whipped the non-shattered lens (and thank the gods it was the right one) on her shirt, questioning what she had tripped on as she placed them unto the bridge of her nose once more. In a second the wound on her head sealed and the world came back into focus. Just in time to see the shock register on Raven's face.

When it rained it poured and when Ryce fucked up she _**royally**_ fucked up.

* * *

Raven had left to notify the police that they could move into the area again. The start of the slow and tedious process of assessing damage and roping off what needed to be repaired. She'd been on her way back when the crackle of static from her communicator gave her pause. Muffled she heard her boyfriend's voice calling out from inside her cloak. Even muted as it was she heard the urgency there and reached down to bring it out of her pocket.

The door beside her slammed open with a crash and on instinct she lashed out a hand. She had not even managed to finish "Azarath" when she felt a warm body crash right into her own. Knocked backwards into the wall she kept her balance where as the girl crashed unceremoniously to the ground at her feet, head ricocheting with a dull smack against it. Cringing inwardly Raven stepped back a few feet with caution, instead of kneeling to check the teenager's condition. A feeling of unease was stealing over her…something wasn't right.

The area was supposed to have been evacuated nearly 2 hours before this so who the girl was remained a mystery. Violet eyes narrowed on her as they watched her slowly begin to paw around for something on the ground. A stain of red had matted the blond bangs to her forehead, revealing a vicious gash where her head and struck the ground. The pale goth opened her mouth to say something, perhaps a reprimand for being where she clearly shouldn't be. But the words died on her lips the second she saw the raw oozing wound begin to knit and then disappear completely from the girl's face. Sitting back gracelessly, a pair of bent and half shattered spectacles were pushed up the bridge of her nose, retrieved from the ground that had all but ruined them. The flesh above those eyes though stained with sticky blood, smooth and unscathed.

The momentary curiosity fled the girl's face when their eyes locked and she saw what had sent her so roughly to the ground. And in a second Raven realized why she felt so ill at ease. She hadn't known she was coming…hadn't sensed the panic that was so clearly written all over her face. Raven reached out with her mind…this was a mistake. It had to be. The girl was standing right there, so why was their nothing for her mental fingers to grasp? Once before she had felt this odd nothingness, years before when she stared Killjoy in the face. But this girl was no Killjoy, she could see the emotions beneath the surface, but the psyche that they should have reflected on wasn't there for her to see.

Wide violet eyes watched as the girl sprang quickly up unto her feet, crouched low and guarded. Lips curled back to bare her teeth clenched into a snarl, the canines inhumanly sharp…fangs. Her eyes, one unnaturally bright blue the other hazed cobalt had changed. The iris's contracted, becomes slits of narrow black in all that blue. They were simultaneously old and young. A cross between the gaze of a cat and a reptile…nothing human reflected in them. Something snapped viciously at her grasping mental prying like a frightened dog backed into a corner, and a growling string of ancient words fell from the girl's mouth. Gooseflesh broke out over Raven's arms…not knowing what she was saying...not having to.

_"Angelus Mortis... __Filia Azrael.._."

"Raven!"

Briefly, she pondered when she had managed to extract the communicator from her pocket. Slowly, she raised her arm bringing the yellow plastic closer to her lips, eyes still locked with the girl. The panic in those eyes was growing; she knew a sudden move would probably set her off.

"Raven here…"

"Raven! Be on the lookout for a teenaged female. Caucasian, Blond hair…about 5'0" 100 lbs. If you find her, detain her until we arrive. She goes by the name of Ry-"

Across the alley the girl let out a growl and in an instant the plastic grew hot in her hand. With a hiss of pain she all but tossed it away. Already melting, it tumbled unto the ground where it burst into flame, hissing and crackling merrily. Whatever it was this girl went by Raven never heard, not that it mattered, she thought. Whatever it was…it was a lie. In the back of her head Raven could hear a whispering, words melding and twisting, the voice familiar and unplaceable and certainly not this belonging to this girl.

{…_usual? Let's make this special…knives get du-...dear daddy…This time…smell his roasting carcass…this time…knives…they all burn…}_

As soon as it began it faded into quiet again. Still Raven grasped at it, clawed at that voice. She knew it, though she could not place a name. On the ground the melted lump of wire and destroyed synthetics gave one last smoldering crackle before burning out. Raven shot a dark glare at the girl and was surprised to be met with an almost withered look of guilt. Those old young eyes had let go some of their alarm and replaced it with some strange imploring regret…she was asking her for something…though Raven could not imagine what

_"Filia Trigon…Noli timere mortem…"_

Her voice cracked a bit in her pleading before a sickly thin arm lashed out and up, her left eye glowing softly. Above Raven's head every window in the building gave a shuddering crash as the glass blew outwards by some unseen force. With a flick of her arms she whipped her cloak around herself protectively, a bubble of black energy forming around her. Eye contact with the girl was broken, and with no way to sense her presence Raven found her self blind.

When the final tinker of glass had sounded Raven dropped the shield to find her already gone.

* * *

She was bleeding.

Not badly though. Not enough to waste her energy on. A shard of glass had managed to catch her hand on the way out. By the time she had returned to the pier she was just starting to reign in the adrenaline bum rushing her veins. That had been too close for comfort…stupidly too close for comfort. She could only imagine what the reaction was going to be. She was worried before about his lack of contact? Well after today there was little room for doubt that there would indeed be contact…plenty of it.

Which is why when she had shimmied her too thin frame past the bolted gates and into the abandoned boat house she was shocked to find everything as she had left it. On a shelf the marble sat, its faintly smoky glowing barely registering even in the gloom and dust. No glowing red rage…no hoarse shrieking growls…nothing. Just silence.

Carefully she walked over, as if the small sphere was some sort of diseased creature capable of biting. She gave a cautious glance to the water lapping against the damp floorboards, the docking station for a boat like a yawning mouth in the floor. She gave this mouth a wide berth as she made her way to the shelf, eyes baleful and full of fear as she stared at it.

The marble and its lazily spinning rings shared the shelf with only a picture, dog-eared with age. Nimbly she picked up the snapshot and stared at its inhabitants. A family of four…the Stathis's in much happier days. Days before Darcy was even potty trained…days when the girls' mother did not know of that dark ravenous growth already eating away at her. A much younger Rebecca was on her father's shoulder, strands of dark brown hair poking out from beneath a hat with round mouse ears, smiling a gap tooth grin.

_Not much to smile about nowadays for Becky is there?_

She shook that from her mind…she couldn't think that way. That hateful, vicious voice hissing out in her mind would lead to no good. Father had said they would solve this in time that it would be for the Greater Good. She just had to be patient was all. Something serpentine was uncoiling within her though, something fat with venom and eager to strike.

_He also said that it was a small sacrifice to be made…if X doesn't arrive in time for you…Father said she's just one person…_

No more.

_One little girl for the Greater Good eh? How noble of you. You sound more and more like the others everyday… _

No…She was going to do this now…

_**He** was for the greater good too…_

A blood trickling, pale hand shot up to the knotted metal trinket resting against her chest. Fingers clutched it tight…pressing it hard into the soft flesh of her palm, letting it imprint into it. She wasn't going to think about **that**. She refused to…not about **him**…not now. Especially not after today.

_She's gonna die…and you're gonna let it happen…_

Shut up.

…_just like you let __**him**__ die._

"_**ENOUGH**__!"_

A flock of roosting and broody pigeons exploded out the shotty hole riddled roof above her. A pier rat gave a terrified squeak before turning and fleeing, his hairless tail whipping through the rotted wood after him. And then there was silence…broken by the maddening lap of water against wood…her hitched and angry breathing.

Slowly she sank unto the floor, taking the sphere from its shelf as she turned. Soon she rested against the dank walls, clutching the picture and marble in the same fist, before her other hand reached up and pulled the long chain up and over her head. A blood dried bang flitted into her field of vision as she wrapped the silver necklace around her hands, the knot coming to rest in her palm. The laceration from the falling glass smeared it with blood. Ryce remembered when he had given it to her…she remembered his smile…his eyes…a dull angry ache built up in her throat and behind her eyes. She wondered, would he have hated her for this?

No…and that made it all the worse. The fact that he would have understood.

She placed the picture on the ground smoothing it gently with her fist, clutched tight, another smear of blood littering this too. A flick of her wrist brought the marble to the tips of her fingers, where it pulsed and bloated until it rested on the digits, now the size of a medium sized apple. She'd been told to wait and see…for the "greater good." Sacrifice a pawn in hopes of catching a glance of the King…because did the pawn really matter? Did she really believe that too? Eyes flipped from one fist to the other. Orb to necklace…necklace to orb…and then back once more

She had to choose.

* * *

Author Note time: I am pleased with myself for actually getting this out in a shorter time than I expected…usually when I set out to **not** take "X" amount of time to do something…it gets done in exactly "X" amount of time. I split this chapter in half from what I originally had in mind though. This part ended up being longer than I thought…ended up having a lot more Star Trek references than I thought it would too…

Ryce: Fascinating, Capt-.

You shut up.

Coming up in Endgame…What is it about Ryce that has Raven so unnerved and what part does she have to play in the race against time for Rebecca? Will the Titans be too late? Or will Ryce go against the supposed "Greater Good" in this glimpse at a much darker and more twisted side of Jump City's villainry?


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the delay folks…been sick. Excuses, excuses, excuses….I know.

Disclaimer: You know the shtick by now.

* * *

_Known Alias(es): Ryce_

_Finger Prints Recognized…………/_

_Facial Structure Recognized…………/_

_Beginning analysis…………/_

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_Searching Database…………/_

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_No Matches Found_

"Told you so."

Robin glared up at the computer screen, fingers still poised frozen over they keypad. Staring down in grainy shades of grays, blacks, and whites was an image of Ryce, her expression oddly blank. Being as there were no images of her on the camera she left behind in her haste, he had managed to get this one off of the security camera lodged into a bank ATM located on that block. The video itself had held no clues either. Ryce appeared on frame for approximately 2 minutes, snapping photos for a majority of the time before moving off frame again. Completely ordinary, an unremarkable young woman if not for the details that would follow in the 20 or so minutes after this film had be shot. It was pure luck that she'd moved her head in just the right direction to allow Tim the shot of her face head on. Pure luck that her eyes-as oddly unreadable as her expression-almost seemed to lock with the camera lens for that split second.

"She's got some nice shots of us in here."

A black eyebrow quirked up ever so slightly as the currently unmasked hero glanced over his shoulder. Beast Boy and Terra sat some feet away eyes glued to the digital camera, flicking through the photos stored in it. Most of them consisting of shots of yesterday's fight. A particularly nice one captured Beast Boy and Cyborg mid-dive, the icy-hot flare of the cold blast frozen in time above their heads, feet away from Mortimer's roaring bulk. Another appeared to be a rather crass Noel with his mouth half opened in what could have only been the start of the Collins Condescension Monologue (patent pending). The rest were a random assortment of people, no picture containing the same person more than once. No pattern could be found. Random seemed to be the girl's only describing trait.

"Yea...great shots. They'll look even better with every single one of our real names captioned beneath them in tomorrow's tabloids."

Gar felt the corners of his mouth tick down slightly as he looked back up at his white haired teammate, "Always the team's ray of sunshine, Noel." The only answer he got was an ill amused scowl as the older Titan returned to pacing impatiently behinds Tim's computer chair.

She'd gotten away, slipped out and through their fingertips like smoke. Just as they had finally reconvened and Noel set out to explain their current predicament, they found themselves surrounded. Flashing bulbs much brighter than the small clicking pop of Ryce's digital camera snapped around them. Police were asking questions, Press was asking questions. Before Noel could even get a word in edgewise to their leader about the seriousness of what was going on, a sleek black limo had pulled up just beyond the crowd. The sea of people parted and Noel watched as that idiot Nearson all but sprang out of the masses, hand clutching Robin's in an enthusiastic grip. The strobe like flashes of media cameras and spot lights became one permanent blind glare of light. With a swift shot of shimmer, Savior was up and over the all but glowing crowd once more, ignoring the raucous cry of cheers and the influx of flashes that followed him. A call out to Raven's communicator, while not useless per say, had come a day late and a dollar short.

"See this is why secret identities are pointless! It's not Slade, mind sucking aliens, angry daddies with control issues, or trans-dimensional demon spawn we gotta worry about...it's rabid fan girls."

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously at the figure lounging on the couch, trying his best to ignore certain parts of that statement. Robert for his part did not seem to take notice of this and just continued on, "This is why I don't even bother with them. Too messy."

"That and no one could possibly give a damn about who you were before you won the Idiot's Lottery."

"Enough you two…don't even start."

A small glaring match between them lasted for a few seconds longer before Robert's mouth snapped shut with a small click, burying whatever his retort had been. He did however manage to make about dozen varying rude hand gestures at the older meta's back when he turned away from him. This seemed to satisfy his ever present need to answer-back for the time being. Seeing the fight averted once again Tim had gone back to clicking his fingers across the keyboard, trying to cross-reference the girl on the screen with every known record in their system. As Nigel had thought…there was no trace of any criminal activity linked to Ryce…more disturbing was there was no trace of her at all. And always troubling, the pacing of Noel behind his chair wasn't helping much of anything.

"Did you try cross referencing hospital records? Narrow it down incidents concerning respiratory disease?"

"Already did Noel."

"No match on the DNA from her inhaler?"

"Still processing Noel."

"How about East? They have any word about her?"

"No Noel."

"She's not going to be their files either…she's not a criminal," Nigel sighed as he wandered up behind the two. On the screen pictures and fingerprints flashed by in rapid succession, searching vainly for a match. The doctor had been saying it from the start that they would not find anything. Whatever the girl was, evil mastermind or hardened criminal did not seem to be her M.O. and even if it was she hadn't been caught at it yet.

"Why is that Nigel? How can you tell? Because you two had a heart to heart over produce selection?"

Nigel sighed, his lips falling into a displeased frown. He was far from eager to engage the man in conversation beyond this when one of these moods surfaced. Though he also doubted simple silence would spare anyone the rant just itching to bubble out into the open. Agitated-Noel tended to lead to monologues…and history references…and he was too tired to deal with the Collins' brand address to the nation. However, judging by the look on Noel's face that wasn't going to matter. At least it would not have if not for the even and controlled voice coming from behind them both.

"Are you going to rip everyone's face off today or just those who disagree with you?"

In any other situation, the way Noel's face faltered and fell a bit at his girlfriend's question may have been amusing. Considering the current mood of the setting, however, Nigel ignored the humor and simply welcomed Raven's interjection as a means to avoid a lecture. Behind him she sat, eyes locked not on any of them but up at the screen, her face contemplative as she stared at the girl's image. It was as if she was searching it for something any of them had missed. There was nothing of course…not here at least.

"Raven, I'm not trying to rip people's faces off…but no one here seems to understand how serious this is. How much does this girl know about us besides names? Where did she come from? Why is she here?"

To this Raven had no answer…none she was willing to say aloud quite yet. The goth knew she should be addressing certain particulars with the others. Of course she had told them of her literal run-in with the girl, nearly every detail from the healing forehead, to the shattering glass, to the inhuman characteristics she'd seen in that alley. She'd forgone mentioning the odd blankness of the girl's mind, amongst other details concerning the words that had fallen from her mouth. It wasn't that she was keeping the information from them. There were things that first had to be verified. God above knew still, how badly she hoped that her assumption was wrong. That the scrawny teen from the alleyway was nothing more than a wayward meta with unidentified powers instead of…well…something else.

Luckily, Tim spoke up and kept any of them from questioning her run-in with the willful teen once more, "I'm sure Nigel understands the severity Noel…but he's also had time to speak with her a bit. He's usually a pretty good judge of character."

Noel frowned at this assessment, "People lie, Tim…and the best ones are usually the ones you'd least expect."

"True…but she's been here for at least a week and has had more than ample opportunity to use the info she has. If she's as evil as you seem to think she is…what's she waiting for? What in the world does she have to gain from NOT spilling her guts to the nearest paper?" Tim asked frowning as he swiveled the chair around to face Noel. The questions rhetorical and aimed more at himself than anyone else.

"Just because we don't know her motive doesn't me she doesn't have one,"

From somewhere in the room Robert began to sing quietly under his breath, "Paranoia, Paranoia everybody's coming to get me…" Those assembled were spared yet again from the wrath of ranting when a loud whooping alarm sounded from the computer system.

Switching around one last time, Tim regarded the blinking red icon on the screen before clicking upon it. Instantly, the message being beamed into the tower scrawled across the large monitor in front of him. If it was at all possible the troubled look upon his face increased as he read the words. None of his assembled team mates had to ask what that troubled look meant. With a sigh he glanced back over his shoulder at the grey toned alien still hovering nearby. "Go get Sophie."

* * *

"Daddy I leff Beast Boy in da car!"

Blank, lost eyes glanced down at the child in his arms. Darcy Stathis, eyes wide and teary, gazed imploringly back at the police cruiser growing smaller on the street behind them. Her eyes puffy with tears, rimmed first in red and then beneath them a sunken purple, so much like his own right now. She was struggling, squirming her way upwards so as to not only look, but reach her tiny arms up over his shoulders. Normally, he would have turned back, journeyed across the busy street once more and retrieved the plush super hero from his car. Normally, it would be to the squealing delight of his younger child, and the groaning annoyance of Rebe-

All at once his lungs came to a halt, neither drawing in air or releasing the poisoning breath he currently held. A small whimper mewled pathetically in his ear. He gave no sign that he had heard the miserable little plea as numb and mechanical legs pushed him past the lot and through the heavy wooden doors of the Jump City Police Headquarters.

The building was in chaos. Papers all but flew through the air. Moshes of patrolmen, dispatchers, detectives, and more were darting amongst one another, rushing to and fro. Stathis was struck with an image of a roller derby as one of the newest patrolmen managed to sprint into an open drawer below his eye level and nearly go sprawling to the floor. All the rush and bustle did not so much as halt upon his arrival. Yet still, he saw the change. Split second glances, pitying, furtive looks that lasted only so long as the one giving them didn't think they'd be seen. None of them would meet his eyes head on.

He walked. His legs still jutting out strangely from his body, automaton like and foreign. He passed by a long line of benches, occupied sparingly by a rather eclectic group of people that were all but lost in the chaos. Arrests made during the night. Arrests that had nothing to do with the panic and pandemonium going on around them at that moment. They sat as if forgotten, handcuffed to the backs of their bench, waiting for a moment of peace so that they could be processed.

A tattooed face leered up at him, jagged, twisted metal pierced through various sections of flesh on his body. Automatically as if reflex, a hand came up to shield the child's head protectively. Next to him an older male sat mumbling his eyes unfocused and bleary, with a near visible fog of whisky odor wafting around him as he slumped lower and lower. Occupying a bench all to herself a blond teenaged female, her legs propped up comfortably on the empty seating, as if lounging. The non-cuffed hand held a red and white paperback, her fingers covering some of the title's letters so that the cover only read "Th Sta d."

He barely noticed all three of them as he marched past. Into the eye of the storm he continued, as behind him the metal adorned and inked man began to yell at a passing officer about his "treatment." The drunken gentleman had begun to snore, ignoring his bench mate's hateful shrieking, ignoring the young woman on the bench next to theirs as she stared at Stathis' back from behind her book. The hand that had been assumed to be cuffed to the bench rose up from her side, free to brush a lock of hair from a hazy, blind eye.

Without a word she closed her novel and stood, her eyes never switching away from the Captain's back. A small smile played across her lips, getting lost within her before it reached her eyes. The Captain had disappeared into the crowds of panicky officials leaving her to gaze at the nothingness he once occupied. Without a word, without a notice, she turned to slip out of the police station through those heavy wooden doors.

Just as her fingers prepared to brush the polished oak she swept slightly to the side. The doors flashed open, admitting a brown haired man in an expensive suit and an array of shouts and flashes. His face was drawn in, troubled and solemn, a perfectly executed look of grave seriousness. Their paths crossed only briefly in the commotion of cawing questions and jutting microphones. The mess of reporters took little notice as she brushed past them all, unsmiling eyes locked on the street…locked on police cruiser at the curb.

* * *

Mask obscured eyes roved the pages in front of them. The missing girl's name was Rebecca Anne Stathis, brown hair brown eyes, thirteen years of age. She'd been missing for a few days now, originally thought to be a runaway. There had been a fight apparently, between the girl and her father the night of her disappearance. Had it not been for the grisly case on which Sophie was working, the police force around him may have not thought anything other than "runaway."

A sweep of the girl's computer had quickly shown them the conversations kept with an unknown party. The coffee shop that the chats had mentioned confirmed the last sighting of the girl to be 12:37 AM five days prior. A traffic camera had shown the girl in fact leaving the shop, only to disappear into the shadow of an open alleyway moments later. She never came out of that alleyway and a search of it had come up with nothing more than a discarded candy bar wrapper. Most probably no more than a scrap of garbage blown in by the dying summer wind. It lay untouched in a plastic zip lock anyway, along with whatever other meager evidence they had.

But here was where the trail had run cold. No other evidence was to be found. A passing storm had washed away any scent trail stumping even Beast Boy. Briefly, the masked young man wondered if they would have been called in if it had not been the child of one of the officers at this station. It was not quite a bitter thought, more resigned than anything. Weeks ago when this had all come to an ugly start the Chief of Police had all but scoffed at Robin's offer of aid. They would accept Sophie but no one else. Robin hadn't needed an empath to read the message behind the bristled stance the Chief had taken, a clear message of "This is mine." So he stepped back before the man continued to perceive that his toes were being trodden upon. Until it was one of their own that is. Would they have refused their help again if it had simply been another unknown urchin? A serial child murderer was on the loose and he was getting bolder it seemed.

The double doors across from where he was sitting swung open sluggishly, admitting a man into the bustle of the back scene of the precinct. A man carrying a small child and looking only a few steps shy of the living dead. Robin instantly recognized the missing girl's father from her file. A pang of pity rang through him watching the man stagger mechanically over to what could have only been his desk. Upon it he sat the kindergartener down.

"He shouldn't be here."

He did not even glance to his right to see both Savior and Raven frowning at the disheveled and distraught Captain of police. Giving a nod of agreement he said, "I know Savior…the chief said he insisted on coming in though… can't really blame him. Stathis has seen the other bodies that have been brought in. He knows what happens when this guy is through with the girls." His frown if at all possible deepened further at his other daughter. "The little one shouldn't have to see all this…"

"He just lost one…do you really think he's going to let the other out of his sight?" Raven sighed, "He is too emotionally compromised to be involved…but I think it may be safer if he's where we can keep an eye on him." The child was sniffling miserably from her perch atop her father's desk, wide glassy eyes staring at all the commotion with no inkling of understanding. The man she called her father didn't seem to notice this distress, hands roaming the desk's top sorting through papers without any comprehension of what he was doing. They both looked lost. Raven made no other comment, drifting away to the other side of the large room, where Cyborg sat studying the tape of Rebecca's last sighting

Lost or not, Robin thought, as he slowly made his way towards him, maybe he can shed some more light on this. Mouth dropping open to alert the man to his presence it instantly snapped back shut when another stepped in front of his field of vision. He didn't even need a glance over his shoulder to know the cold and annoyed look that had swept over Savior's face. In fact, he had to struggle not to allow his own expression to fall into the same. Nearson for all his impeccable timing did not seem to register the aggravation his presence caused; he was extending a hand towards the Titan.

"Robin…it's good to see you again…I wish it was under better circumstances."

"Don't we all Assemblyman."

The trivial conversation was heard superficially at best by Savior as he ducked around the two. It had taken nearly all his will power to not simply shunt the older man aside. They were in the middle of an investigation. A child was missing for Christ's sake! At least he had the common sense to not drag half of Jump's media population down with him this time. It struck the white haired man as odd in fact, this being perhaps the first time he had seen the politician without his typical throng of adoring cameras and reporters.

"Dude…you look like you're gonna bite him or something."

At this rate he'd be able to talk to Stathis by sometime next week. Still, the patience for his teammates far outweighed that reserved for self serving publicity whore politicians. Wiping the nearing hostile expression off his face he turned to see the green skinned shifter eyeing their leader and Nearson warily.

"He shouldn't be here Beast Boy."

"I saw him coming in," the younger of the two muttered, "You had to see the circus of reporters that was following him. It was insane, man. They were all getting pissy because one of the cops told them to get lost."

Well at least that explained where the Nearson "fan club" went, the meta thought with a sneer. He didn't even need to wait for the report later that evening, already knowing what it was Nearson had said as he wandered in. He'd be painted once again as a proactive hero figure, getting right into the thick of the case, "Helping anyway he can," when in reality all this joker was going to do was be in the god damned way.

"How'd they get rid of them all?"

A small smirk played across the younger man's face, "We sent Scalpel outside to glare at them. Suddenly they all seemed to have deadlines to catch."

Noel gave a knowing nod, picturing the normally soft spoken and gentle man just staring at the dissipating crowd. Something about being stared down by a 6 foot plus demonic looking alien seemed to rub the press the wrong way every time.

"Seriously though Savior…what's the deal with this guy? I mean I've never seen the press go this gaga of a politician. It's like he's a celebrity or something."

"He is," Noel said with a frown, eyes quickly glancing over to Robin. Judging by his body language their leader was trying to politely pull himself from the conversation. Nearson appeared to either not notice or care. By now Beast Boy was staring at him with a confused look. Deciding to wait for Robin to question the girl's father he explained Nearson's odd story.

"Nearson's father was Judge Samuel Warner Nearson, a judge known for his particularly harsh sentences. The Nearsons are -_were_- a very well to do family, old money…corporate money. Harry was fresh out of college and just starting his politico career when the Nearson clan decided to take a trip. The plane went down in the Alaska wilderness in the dead of winter. The search was a short one; once the rescuers started needing rescuing themselves it was called off. Forty Five days after the search had been called off a hunting group of three brothers nearly shot a man who had wandered into their camp thinking he was a bear."

Eyes widening slightly, Gar stared a bit more openly at the man speaking with Robin. Savior nodded agreeing with the unspoken shock written across the green youth's face.

"Harry had trekked over half the Alaskan wilderness armed with only a hatchet and his winter gear, surviving on whatever he could catch. Not including his entire family- his mother, father, and twelve year old sister- he lost three toes, two fingers and the tip of his left ear to frost bite. Not bad all things considering. The media swooped down on his story like locusts, the lone survivor of a horrific tragedy. Upon recovering Harry used the fame he garnered from his story to jump start his political career."

Head shaking slight in awe Gar could find no other words than a low whisper of "Dude…" Though Savior would have probably found a slightly more eloquent way to express it he couldn't help but agree. Nearson's story was indeed amazing. The humility and pain Noel heard in him when he spoke of those incidents seemed genuine, enough. Yet still…Noel couldn't stand him, which is why if it was within his power he would avoid the man like the plague.

For once it appears that fate was on his side as a mechanically nodding Robin managed to point Nearson in the direction of the exit. The somberly, pleasant expression on the politician's face had not quite reached offended but Savior could see it lurking quietly beneath the surface. Nevertheless, with another firm handshake the man departed from the room, and hopefully out of the station into the early evening. When Tim turned back to them his face, surprisingly expressively even with the mask, instantly took on a look of harried annoyance.

"What did Nearson want now?" Savior asked quietly when the badgered man finally made his way back over.

"What else? Wants to know our progress…if we have any leads…let us know that he's willing to do anything he can to help."

"It's none of his damn business! What the hell could he possi-"

A waving hand cut Noel off mid sentence as Robin shook his head, "I know, I know Savior. But I'm not going to cut him off like that. The last thing we need is the media turning around and saying we're refusing help from anyone, let alone their darling Nearson. He wasn't a complete waste of time. He let me know that JBC is already setting up a spot on tonight's headline. They're hanging us out to dry for taking so long to get involved."

Anger flared behind Saviour's eyes upon hearing this. His jaw clenched involuntarily even as Gar gave out an indignant and slightly shrill sound of irritation. It hadn't taken them long he groused inwardly, half listening to his green toned teammate indignant stuttering, "What!? That's bullshit! They wouldn't let…I mean…they said…"

"You kids are always going to be the first in the blame game…think you've been in this business long enough to know that."

Beast Boy gave a small squeak-like eep of surprise before whipping around. As he awkwardly scratched the back of his head, Robin and Savior got their first good close look at the missing girl's father. He was in his mid to late forties from the looks of it, a slightly plain looking fellow with a strong chin and jaw. A dark five o'clock shadow peppered with silver was starting across his face and his clothes (plainclothes and not his uniform they noted) hung off of him oddly, as if he had lost a significant amount of weight in a rather short time. Haunted purple-bagged eyes stared at them quietly holding none of the accusations that the news would be flinging at them in a few hours time. Robin was first to break the slightly uncomfortable silence that had fallen thickly over them.

"Captain Stathis?"

"Yes…Robin, right?"

He didn't wait for an answer sticking out his hand to shake. He looked from Robin to the other two younger men his face calm, but his eyes feverish and desperate. "I assume you have questions…" he said directing the comment to the space somewhere between Robin and Savior as if unsure of who to address. Robin picked it up, "Anything you can tell us Captain would help."

"I don't know what else there is to say…everything I know is in the report they've given you. Becky…we'd had a fight that night. It was about her grades or clothes…I don't even remember. It was just a stupid fight…I mean all parents have 'em with their kids right? She'd never run off before so when she slammed the door shut I just thought she'd gone to bed or gone on her computer to talk to that boy…she'd been talking to him online now for a few weeks. I kept telling her to knock it off but you know kids her age….hell some of you aint **that** much older than her…" he trailed off slightly in his rambling. It didn't take long into his monologue for Savior to realize what little help the rattled officer would be to them. Simultaneously, he felt both sympathy and exasperation for the man, noting the five year old who had hopped from his desk to stand quietly by her father's side. One thumb was hooked tightly into her mouth as the other hand twisted it self randomly through the fabric of his pants leg. Her eyes were locked fixatedly on something beside him.

He had been ready to pull the others aside to mention his lack of help when, Sophie emerged from the crowd. Still rambling to Robin and Beast Boy, Stathis fortunately seemed to miss her approach. Immediately, Noel could see something was greatly amiss. The normally pale woman's face looked the color of curdled milk, her eyes wide and troubled. Sophie who was nothing else other than desensitized when it came to her line of work had found something out…something that couldn't be good.

"What's going on?"

Mouth open to speak, she cut herself off quickly, eyes darting from first the Captain and then trailing down slightly. Savior followed the gaze to the child who was hiding half of her face shyly against Stathis' leg. He picked up on the cue straight away. Whatever it was Sophie had discovered…she did not want either of the missing girl's family to hear. Thinking quickly, he followed the little girl's gaze to what it was still so absorbed with, and understood. Well this certainly made this a little easier.

"Captain Stathis?" he interrupted ceasing the man's endless litany, "I know this is hard. If you could…our tech specialist Cyborg wanted to go over some of the information we gathered from Rebecca's hard drive with you. If you'd like Beast Boy could watch after your daughter while you are gone."

A quick dark look shot at the green youth cut off any complaints at babysitting he may have had. Stathis cast him the briefest of lost looks, before mumbling in agreement and moments later he was across the room nodding numbly at a screen.

"Seriously?" Beast Boy dead panned frowning at the little girl who was staring at him in a way that could only be described as awe-struck. Seeing there was little to no chance at arguing and/or whining his way out of this, the shifter gave a sigh. He extended a hand to his tiny charge whose sparkly eyed stare all but increased as he led her away. Once they were far enough out of ear shot, Savior and Robin turned back to Sophie. Her mouth dropped open though no sound emerged for several seconds, her jaw bobbing uselessly.

"How bad is it?" Robin asked quietly turning the mortician's attention. She shook her head slowly as if to clear it and when she spoke the tone was quiet but rushed with horror.

"Robin…the bite marks. I never thought…I always assumed they were from being outside…I never even thought to check. But then I saw how clean some of the breaks were…not blunt force trauma but sheared through…and the pattern the dismemberment followed. So I checked the bite marks still figuring, God knows what could have been picking at those bones out there after all. That it was just an overworked and over tired mind seeing patterns where there weren't any. That's what he wants us to think though!"

"What are you talking about?" Savior asked his voice all but a whisper. There was not quite a hint of hysteria or panic in the brunette's voice quite yet, but the calm collected woman he knew his team mate to be was fraying. There was a horrid image rising up in his mind. Surely, Sophie could not be going towards that. Already he was mentally scolding himself for allowing a dark thought like THAT to ever even be assumed. A swift shift of his eyes and he saw the dawning look of revulsion and horror flickering at the corners of Robin's own expression. Even as he convinced himself otherwise he knew what would come out of Sophie's mouth next.

"The teeth marks…on the bones…they're….Christ guys, they're human."

* * *

Dave Stathis knew full well that the young men had been trying to get rid of him. Knew even more that he sounded like a half wit in his babbling rambles when they had asked him for information. He was in shock, exhausted, and perhaps even verging on a sort of emotional breakdown, but he was not so unawares that he missed the look on the heavier one's face when she approached. They had found out something…something they did not want him to hear. When he had caught sight of her sickened face he had felt as if his insides had turned instantly into jelly, into water, before just as quickly they seized up into a tight and painful ball.

He was only half listening to the cybernetically enhanced youth sitting at the consol next to him. Eyes roving the still frames and moving shots that showed his Becky walking into a dark alley, but not really seeing. He had already seen these stills…seen the footage they came from. If this team composed of variously enhanced youths could not see anything telling, then what made them think he could? His eyes shut slowly, relieving them of that dry, awful sting that had taken up residence in the passing days. He could barely shut his eyes for so much more than a minute before awful and darks things began to flash behind the lids. There had been no sleep since he discovered his elder daughter's empty room. Exhaustion clawed at him, blurring the edges of the world. So blurred that he barely heard Cyborg's technical prattling…so blurred he barely heard the jingling sound of his cell phone going off from the clip on his belt loop. Half numb fingers unclipped it, automatically flipping the top open without a glance. There was no chance for him to greet the caller, the second the cool plastic touched his ear a voice emerged from the receiver.

"Hello Captain Stathis."

He didn't recognize the voice. It was polite and female, matured but not quite old. There was a strange inflection to it, just the faintest hint of an accent. The kind of accent you wouldn't always hear, that faded in and out as if the person had long practiced in ridding themselves of it. He frowned to no one in particular as he asked, "Who is this?"

"Perhaps you should check the ID Sir."

Frown lines were making there way across his forehead, deeply carved into the flesh after years of stress and worry. With a queer look to the cell he pulled it away and stared at the display screen. All at once his insides were water once more, his very bowels seeming to drop before becoming cramped steel. Beside him Cyborg carried on, oblivious to his lack of attention, oblivious to the tiny piece of technology that was displaying his daughter's name back at him. Fours days ago they had tried to trace it…it had been off and the final pings had placed her only at the coffee shop's vicinity. It had been one of the first things that thought of. The voice on the other end was waiting patiently…and it was most definitely not his Becky. Slamming the phone back to the side of his face he opened his mouth, his shocked silence preparing to be broken by a screaming litany of threats. The voice did not allow it thought, growing cold and strange before he could utter as much as a shrieking syllable.

"Captain Stathis, if you want to see Becky again with all her body parts still firmly attached I recommend you shut your gabbling trap right now and listen to what I have to say. Walk away from the Titans, Captain. Walk away from Cyborg. You have until the end of this next sentence to make something up. You are not to react to this phone call in anyway."

"Yuh-Yes…Yes I understand."

As if someone else were controlling his movements, his head tilted up and away from the phone. Cyborg had moved away from the video now and onto the content of Rebecca's hard drive. Never once did he even seem to notice the odd cottage cheese like color that flooded Dave's face. For a moment the police officer considered grabbing the man and shoving the phone to him, silently plead with him to find a way to trace this call. The chilling words the voice had whispered to him and the dark promises they held stayed his tongue from uttering any more than, "It's one of my patrolmen…Dern…he's out on the road…I'll take this in the Chief's office."

Cyborg nodded, having long ago given up on getting much more help out of the man than monosyllabic answers and half aware nods. With a calm that surprised himself, Stathis stood from his seat and walked towards the Chief's empty and dark office. There was not hitch in his step, no tic to his brow; he exuded complete and utter calm. With a smooth turn, he shut the door behind him, flicking the lock into the shutter with a twitch of his wrist. Slowly, the phone came back to his ear, and the voice returned. His rage blossomed at the hint of amusement it held.

"Very good, Captain…"

Hot red patches of color bloomed up on his ashen cheeks. He was hissing viciously into the phone barely recognizing the sound his own voice had taken on, "If you have harmed a single hair on her head I'll find you…I'll find you…do you hear me?! You fucking little bitch! When I am done with you….you'll wish for death…your own mother won't recognize you! I swear you wi..."

"With all due respect, Sir? Shut the fuck up."

For several seconds a deathly hush fell over the room, broken only by the occasional hitch in the captain's breathing. It had finally hit him that he was completely boxed in. This disembodied and faceless voice that called from his missing child's mobile phone held all the cards in her hands. At any time the line could fall dead, that cyanide-laced syrup of a voice could simply cease, into the abyss of cut calls it would go and he'd be left alone in the dark. His Becky was alive…he believed that much. He had to. For how long he could never have been certain, but it seems his mystery caller could. He had no choice.

Slowly, and with an audible click and snap, his jaw shut. Down the line he could hear the female's soft breathing. Then she began again, her voice calm and level as if queued by the nearly quiet closing of his mouth. It was a smooth and pretty voice…but there was so much more beneath it. There was an edge of ice to it, a shot of something unquestionably toxic, a cold certainly that held him rooted to the spot.

"I am not the person you are after Captain…but I am willing to help…and I promise I am the only chance you have. Becky is very much alive and if you play your cards right you may get to see her make it to high school…maybe with out any scars on her pretty lil' face. You tell anyone about this call and you lose, sir. Check and Mate. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes…yes please…please tell me where she is."

The line fell silent. For a moment he felt his heart stop as if suddenly turned to lead, sure that he had lost the call. But then her voice returned…that ugly amusement had crept back into it.

"2 plus 2 can equal five. Follow the Green Rabbit, Alice…follow him all the way down the rabbit hole and find your Becky."

"What does that mean!?" he called into the speaker, his voice becoming oddly shrill. He heard a low grating sound on the other end…dear god she was chuckling.

"Goodbye Captain."

"Don't you hang up on me! DON'T YOU FUCKING HANG UP ON ME!!!"

The line fell dead.

* * *

The tiny cell fell from her fingers purposefully, popping back open as it clattered against the pavement. She frowned at it thoughtfully, before picking up her leg and slamming the heel of her boot into the hinge. A soft snap and crunch sounded from beneath the shoe as she twisted her ankle slightly, grinding it into the asphalt for good measure.

With a sigh she lifted the boot clad foot leaving the shattered bits of wire and plastic behind as she made her way over to the curb. The door was unlocked. With ease she slipped into the driver's seat, mismatched eyes glancing warily at all the buttons and dials and switches. A note of annoyance ran through her, the man while distracted enough to not lock the car had not in fact been so gone as to have left her the keys.

No matter really. The skill she needed here was not particularly difficult to find or control. Common enough that she could probably have learned herself if not for these rather pressing time constraints. Slender form leaning back, she closed her right eye, searching for someone of use. It didn't take her particularly long to sort a candidate out from the mess of voices echoing far back in her head. She pulled it up in her mind as if plucking a record from a file cabinet, neatly filled out and organized. Name: Jimmy Roark…Age: 37…A down on his luck car thief who sold the spare parts to chop shops….D.O.D: 7/16/09…he was relatively new to the game that meant…easy to grip. None of these facts were of particular interest…only the skills that came with him. The left eye glowed faintly in the growing night shadows of the car's interior. From above her knees came a crack of plastic…a sputter of sparks. In an instant the car roared to life.

Somewhere across the street a dispatcher leaving the building for a smoke shouted in dismay as she pulled from the curb. Two blocks down and building speed she threw the in car camera out the window and under the speeding wheels below.

* * *

Harsh gasping breaths hissed past Stathis's lips. Desperately, his mind tore at her words, falling on them in a savage frenzy. He had tried to call the number back, letting out a low moan of agony when the giggling high pitched voice of his daughter asked him to leave a message at the beep. He didn't snap the cell shut…just let it topple carelessly from his fingers unto to cheap carpet at his feet. The commotion going on outside had covered his frantic screaming into the phone. A blank stare out the office window told him as much, as people darted to and fro.

Eventually, he managed to force his legs into movement once more, all but staggering his way out of the dark and silent office. The noise and bustle of the main room seemed to come to him as if from far away, as if he was suddenly dunked underwater. His eyes wandered the floor without really seeing. Colleagues and strangers, Officers and the miscellaneous Titan blurred together in a mess of chaos and sound. He didn't even recognize Elliot, even though the man had been their dispatcher for 20 years, when he rushed past him. He was calling out to one of the other Captains about some idiot kid stealing a cruiser. The room was spinning and beginning to grow grey. It didn't take long for the officer realize how very close he was to simply collapsing into a black out. An almost welcoming acceptance of it bloomed up in him.

It was Darcy's giggling that cut through the grey blur encroaching on his vision. Lifting up his hand he pressed them hard into the softest part of his temples, pain came rushing through, strong and hard, chasing away the rest of the haze and leaving spots of light and dark dancing in the periphery of his eyes. He couldn't go down now, Rebecca was alive…he had to figure this out, had to understand what the voice had been telling him.

Eyes scanned across the room and found Darcy sitting on one of his Sergeant's desks. One of the patrolmen had allowed her to commandeer his hat, which sat upon hr head, far too large and tilting lazily to one side. That green Titan she was so fond of was sitting next to her smiling and nodding as she spoke. In an instant he was gone and a green tabby was in his place. The kindergartener let out another peal of laughter, clapping her hands excitedly, as she thought up a new animal for the shifter to appear as. A slow, sad smile tried to claw its way unto his face. He would have to thank the young man for humoring her. God knows the last thing one of these kids wanted to do was sit in a police station babysitting a kid who kept asking him to turn into cute fluffy animals like kitties, puppies, and bunn-

_Daddy I leff Beast Boy in da car!_

_Follow the Green Rabbit Alice._

Someone had stolen a cruiser.

He already knew which one even as he walked out of the building. Before he even reached the curb to find the car gone and the shattered cell on the ground. Little rhinestones that he had watched the teen painstakingly apply, littering the destroyed hunk of chips and wiring and the ground around it. The sight of the shattered cell phone made what came next easy.

The new recruit that pulled into the lot barely parked. With a solemn and sympathetic face he had turned to say hello before he found himself thrown unto the pavement. Stathis yanked him from the car with ease and slipped in behind the wheel. Tires spun, leaving black streaks on the lot as he hopped up and over the curb. The radio crackled and rambled with those on patrol scrambling to find the stolen cruiser. He flipped the frequency off unblinking, turning the knob until the display glared back at him green, 2.25. The frequency did not disappoint, her voice drawled out from behind his CB.

"Hello Captain."

British…the accent…it was British he realized. But it faded in and out, sometimes so much so that it was completely gone, leaving a typical American sounding lit.

"Where ar-"

"Ander Street bridge, Captain. Down the rabbit hole. Try and get here before dark. No one else."

* * *

The car door slammed shut behind him. He had tried to be gentle, but in the quiet of the dark and empty street, any noise seemed to echo forever. He had thrown them off…sent them to the other side of the city after the missing car. It had been the only way he could be sure they would be alone. Empty, condemned building loomed up and around him, almost leering down at him with their boarded open windows and broken panes of glass. The entire section of this neighborhood was set for rezoning, rebuilding, reliving almost. It was dead. Swamp stretched out beyond it.

Night had come, he had driven as fast as he could, but night had come anyway. The street was nearly pitch black for blocks, the lights on their poles broken and dead, the city having not wasted funds for replacements. Seeing wasn't hard without them, though. Not with the wreckage of his cruiser sitting there like a crushed can. The red and blue bubble light on the hood flashed, weakly flickering every so often. The car had been totaled…plowed into the telephone pole right at the small traffic bridge's end. Standing next to it, he was not surprised to find nothing more inside than a deployed air bag. It wasn't the car that held answers…but the ground. He pressed his fingers into the dark wet pavement, ignoring the acrid smell of leaking gas and oil. His hand came back splattered red.

The sewer like gully of water beneath the bridge guttered and burbled beneath his feet. Unholstering the gun at his hip, he made his way to the bridge railing, and looked down the ten or so foot drop. A red streak on the railing, smeared, but still unmistakably a hand. With as much grace as a man in his 40s could muster, he was up and over the railing, coming to a creaky and wet landing in the stagnant water below. He peered into the dark, eyes scouring vainly for anything. Beneath the bridge lay only swamp and reeds, overgrown since this industrial waste land had been abandoned years prior

"Hello Captain."

The faceless voice came from behind him, and sent an almost womanly shriek up and out of his throat before he could stop it. The gun swung round, cocked and quite prepared to discharge. The dark promise from earlier was all that steadied his jumpy and sweaty grip on the trigger. Finally, he had a face to the voice. Even in the shadows as they were he could see enough of her to lower the gun. There was no way this could be right. She had a trail of blood glittering wet below her nose, no doubt from being smashed by the air bag.

"Y-Y-You're just a kid."

"Yes…I suppose I am." she whispered quietly as if worried of being overheard. Who could hear them he did not know, they were alone as he promised. It didn't matter though. Alone or not. Kid or not.

"Where is she?! Please tell me where she is!"

The girl stepped out from beneath the bridge's darker shadow. Dear God he thought, she could not have been all that much older than Becky. Is she was 18 yet he'd eat his hat. Blond hair hung dirty and limp against her head. His stomach cramped when he placed her face, sitting so calmly on the bench of the police station little over an hour ago. He had looked right at her. Slowly, the surrealism was beginning to bleed out, he was ready to ask for his daughter again when he noticed that sad almost hesitant look on the girl's face. Shaking his head violently he listened as she whispered.

"This is as far as you go Captain…the rest of the journey falls on someone else to complete."

"NO! You said you'd take me to her! Where's Becky!? WHERE'S MY FUCKING DAUGHTER!" he screamed taking a step forward as she stepped back. The slow and pitying shake of her head ripping a scream out of his throat. The frustrated, howl earned him nothing more than an even great dose of pity in her odd mismatched eyes as she whispered once more, "I'd imagine at a most unpleasant tea party."

Hysteria was clawing at him; he was running out of time. Only now could he see that. This had to end one way or another. If he had to make her tell him so be it. If he had to choose so be it. Force was the only way, but how? He didn't know. The pitying look was still on her face, but her lips had pulled back slightly, a sad, sad smile.

"Are you going to shoot me Captain?"

When had he leveled his gun on her? There was something, somewhere in his mind begging him to lower it again. She was a kid. Could he really shoot her in cold blood? It wasn't cold blood though, he supposed…not really. The gun steadied, and he took his aim, the girl's pale forehead nearly blue in the lack of light. His index finger tightened just slightly, only a little more pressure would do. One last chance.

"I will if I have too. Where is my daughter?"

"Good…loving her that much…it's good. Goodbye Captain."

Stathis pulled the trigger and saw her duck away in the gun's flash. So bright in the dark, the flash all but blinded him for that crucial second, listening as the sound of the ricocheting slug drowned out the sounds of her splashing foot steps as she ran. A roar of denial ripped up and out of him and he aimed into the dark, firing once…twice…three times. Something dropped down into the waters behind him. He reeled around once more and took aim and the crouching figure.

A cry of dismay and shock sounded when a mass of white filaments suddenly coated the gun ripping it away from his fingers. Another splashing figure from behind him. No matter. Disarmed, he swung his fist around instead. The grip that caught it was iron tight and within moments bending it back at the wrist. Pain flared strong and sobering through his arm like fire as the figure from before called out from behind him.

"Savior I think that's enough."

From above light flooded the waters under the bridge. The white haired meta from the station released his aching arm, his blue eyes narrowed cautiously as the officer stumbled back. The white energy flowing from his hand was holding his gun well enough out of reach. Panic began to steal over Stathis once more as he gazed around desperately for the girl. Above him, on the bridge Cyborg stood aiming a spot light down at them…behind him the dark haired young woman…she was named after a bird or something his muddled mind reasoned. She had been the one to call out to the one bending his wrist, Savior.

"What's going on Stathis?"

It was the masked one-the boy from Gotham that worked with The Bat- who asked. Dave had not even realized he had dropped down into the gutter water, too. None of that mattered though. They were wasting precious time. Didn't they see that?

"She knows where Becky is…we have to find her."

"Who knows where Becky is? Who is 'her?'"

"The girl! She was standing right here! She called me on Becky's cell phone…she told me to follow! We have to go after her before she runs off!" he pleaded with not just Robin but the other two as well. Somewhere above Beast Boy was looking at Cyborg and twirling a finger in a circle by his ear. Stathis could only ramble and beg. Savior cut him off quickly, "Why did you discharge your gun?"

The man looked up at him, guilt and desperation lining his face, turning him into an old man before the meta's very eyes. When he spoke, so much of the hurried panic had left it, leaving only broken pleas for understanding, "She….She wouldn't tell me…I-I didn't….I didn't want to. I just want my Becky back...she's going to hurt her! I didn't want to shoot…I missed…"

"Captain…"

"Please understand…I can't let anything happen to my baby…"

"Captain."

"I didn't want to shoot at her."

"Captain!"

The bloodshot, slowly unhinging eyes, gazed up and over his shoulder at the slightly harsher summons. Raven's expression softened at the pitiful sight. She tried to make her voice as gentle as possible, "There's no other presences in the area besides our own."

"Wuh…what?"

"If there was anyone else here…"

"No….No! I am not crazy! She was here god damn it! She crashed the fucking car!"

"Captain Stathis…there's no one there. Raven would know. She'd have sensed them on our way down. The only people within a mile are you and our team mates. The car was crashed and abandoned by some punk kid taking a joy ride…" Robin said. The man shook his head violently, tears finally coursing down his cheeks. They were lying…they had to be. Becky would be okay. He'd done what she asked! Repeating this over and over in his head, he let them lead him back up and into the large rather technical looking van waiting for them at the curb. Becky would be okay…she had to be okay. He didn't even glance up when they pulled away, lights sweeping up and over the blood stained plush in the gutter.

* * *

Swampy, drainage-spawned reeds parted as she walked through the rather marshy ground. To her right she heard an old drain pipe gurgling nosily; to her left the sky gave an ominous rumble. The drain pipe was her goal. She turned towards it, one hand reaching out to search through the reeds, the other wiping almost absently at her face to rid her of the bloody trail tried under her nose. Driving had certainly been a mistake; she would have to make a mental note to actually learn how once this was all over.

The yawning, metal mouth loomed in the dark as the last bit of blood stained her inner wrist. A large rudimentary hand and eye stamped into its side, a logo. The company it belonged to had once put their name beneath it, though years of neglect had washed it into illegibility. Not far in the distance the factory to match this old drain pipe loomed. A flash of lightning lit the sky an ugly green and thunder crackled and groaned soon behind it. A storm was coming. She smiled coldly as she lifted herself into the pipe, a chuckle echoing in the dark

"How cliché…"

* * *

I know chapter 4 seems shorter than past chapters. It's not technically. Once it hit 34 pages long I thought it would be better to split it into two separate chapters for easier reading. This of course means "Chapter 5" is going to follow shortly within the next week or so, since it is almost done. How the hell did this chapter get this long? Funny thing is this section was supposed to be in the last chapter. I must learn to condense.

Warnings for the squeamish next chapter. Never tried my hand at gore so we shall see what happens. To borrow a bit from writers greater than myself…oh yes, there will be blood.


	5. Chapter 5

Warnings: Not sure if this is really necessary…but the M applicable in this chapter…wee bit of blood to come.

* * *

_Drip…drip…drip…_

Every little, delicate dribble made the pale, thin shoulder flinch and flick, like skin of a spooked colt. The constant steaming water (ohgoditswatericantdothisanymorepleasesayitswater) was all but maddening after the past five days. A trembling hand reached up and gripped a large section of her hair tightly as she rocked her frame back and forth against the wall. The scraping of her ragged clothes and flesh against it perhaps even worse than the dripping. The smallest of sobs was uttered when a chunk of her hair came loose in her quaking hands.

**It **had brought her food…raw and bloody meat always. Her mind wouldn't allow her to process what it was (theresanailinitthereafuckingfingernailinit!) her mouth wouldn't open when It tried to force it down her throat. She had bit It and screamed (daddysosorrydaddypleaseimsorry) and kicked until It finally threw the meat down in rage and left for the day. It was only later with a rush of shame she realized that her bladder had let go as well in her struggles. The shame she could take. She wouldn't eat that food. She knew if she did she'd never come back…she'd never stop screaming. So shame she could take. The dripping water she could take. As long as It was out…as long as another sound didn't start up.

If she heard the saws again…she wouldn't be able to keep the screams down.

* * *

It stumbled up unto into the sick yellow factory light. The form of a man. But only the form. There was no man behind the shapeless mesh like sack that shrouded It's face, not right now at least. No man in the blood shot and dead shark's eyes that peered out from the holes in it. A large butcher's apron covered It's bare chest, extending down past It's waist, protecting the torn burlap pants as well as it could. It's feet went without shoes. Gobs and streaks of dried and fresh gore alike painted a fresco of horror across the material, across It's flesh, cast yellow by the factory light.

With a shambling shuffle It made It's way off the main floor, through a doorway, escaping for a moment from that jaundice light. The thick plastic sheet whispered softly against It's skin as It floated through the curtain. Before It, stretched out wide and dark, was a hall, what dim light could enter reflecting over the grated metal floor. And from beneath the mask came a raspy grating chortle, soft even in the emptiness. It's hand reached into the dark and grasped the lever on the wall, using It's whole body weight to pull down. The room was flooded in the yellow glow as power surged through it. The gore speckled walls greeted him with warmth.

On the other side, beneath the slated floor, the girl's screaming mixed in with the buzz of the saws.

* * *

Bars of light and shadow, made by the hall's catwalk floor, cast patterns on the dingy ground she sat on, inches away from where her chains kept her fastened. Rebecca was not religious…not really. Once upon a time, when Momma had been alive they had gone to church every Sunday. When Momma had gotten sick they had gone even more. She had not followed the rather understandable path of hating God when nothing came of her prayers, but she had not gone back to Him either. Hate was hard, detachment was easy. She had not prayed, not since Momma died. There had been no plans in her mind to ever start again. Not until the buzzing saw screamed into life in the room above her head. Then, she began to pray…she began to scream. It didn't matter anymore to who it went. God? Jesus? Satan himself maybe even. Anyone who could hear her. She begged and sobbed and pleaded for their help, made promises for everything and anything. Knowing it to be in vain, knowing no one was listening to her cry besides It.

She curled into a heap and sobbed wordlessly. Hiding her face and not seeing the strange pin pricks of light reflecting back at her from the shadowy hall's end. Her prayers had not quite fallen on deaf ears. But you had to wonder just what type of ears it had fallen upon as the figure made its way across the room, not so much as flinching as It set to work above. A wet crunch entered the screeching saw chorus. The dripping became a splattering stream as the figure drew nearer…still not flinching when a splash of red slid down from above, fanning across her face, up and over the pink lips of her closed mouth. Information flashed before her mind like a computer. It had come from the arm…Name: Ana…Age: 15…a homeless budding schizophrenic who loved fire and the color pink...the D.O.D had been a measly week and a half ago. No matter, this creature couldn't help her anymore.

It wasn't until the shadow loomed up over the crouching child that Rebecca finally hazarded a glance upwards. The large misshapen shadow the hovering figure casted was impossible; it didn't compare to the body, much like her eyes. Unmatched bits of blue fire… dragon's eyes…stared back from beneath that bloody half mask. A deep, guttural moan came out of Rebecca's throat, too sick with terror to wonder. This thing that looked so very much like nothing more than teenaged girl…with eyes no more human the It above. She'd didn't care…unknowing of this fact she begged the monster from her little sister's closet.

"Puh…puh….please….please?"

The dull hazy eye gave a faint flicker floating in the black shadow of her face. Rebecca gave a shrill sob when she felt the air around her suddenly move and the cuff around her ankle jerk violently. It was as if some unseen hand had sliced through the air around her. She flinched away, eyes wide when the metal shackle fell to the floor, sliced cleanly through. The girl-thing had not so much as flexed a finger, and now she extended a single delicate hand. Without words, with awe and tear-filled eyes Becky took the now offered hand and let herself be pulled to her weak and trembling feet. Thing arms flung themselves frantically over the stranger's shoulder, hugging her desperately in the dark.

Above the sick crunching of bone against metal sounded again, but she didn't cry out, didn't sob at the sound as the stranger pulled her gently away from her embrace. Slowly Becky watched as one blood slicked finger pressed up against her savior's lips, urging the younger girl for silence. Then they were moving, the teen's hand calmly guiding her own up and out of the pit below the slaughter room…away from the dark…away from It. Up the stairs and into the night filled main room with its single disease yellow light.

They stopped.

The unnamed bloodied stranger slipped behind her wordlessly. Across the floor, a large metal door creaked open, pushed by unseen fingers. Beyond it she could see stairs, she could see the sky and thick purple storm clouds threatening one last summer storm. Already she could smell the air cutting through the metal and decay of blood and flesh.

From behind came the squeal of the buzz saw almost louder than it had ever been and she knew her legs would not carry her so far out into the open. They were trapped. Here they would stay, Rebecca's feet frozen and unresponsive to her brain's commands, until It came to find them. Then, the gentle guiding hands seized her, nails sinking down into her flesh. They wheeled her roughly around in a dizzying whirl and suddenly she was face to face with the girl, she could feel her breath on her face and smell the blood coating over her left eye. The irises were round now…not slit…completely human and filled with an emotion she could not find the words for. The girl hissed a single word to Rebecca.

"Run."

All at once the feeling flood back into her legs. Rebecca did as she was told. She didn't stop when the night air hit her face…did not stop when her feet had carried her down the stairs, down the parking lot, or even 3 blocks further. Around block 5 she began to scream…block 6 she ran out into the road blindly. Eyes wide and like an animal, she halted in beaming lights of the car, arms outstretched and imploring. It screeched to a halt inches from her hunched body. She sobbed wordlessly to the driver, unseen through the glare…and collapsed against the hood.

* * *

"How is he?" Vic asked casting a troubled look towards the back of the vehicle's cab. There was a window with a metal plate covering it, closed off and blocking their voices from the swat style van's back inhabitants. Noel sat for a moment, leaving his question to hang in the air unanswered, watching the dark and shadows crawl slowly by outside his window. Vic gave an inward cringe. Broody Noel was just about as much of a joy as Paranoid Noel. Finally, with a sigh Savior gave a small shrug of his shoulders looking back at the driver's seat.

"Incoherent. Who can blame him though? Robin's thinking he had a break down…imagined up some answer to his problem and convinced himself it was real. It's a good thing you caught on Cyborg…if we hadn't found him before he kept shooting like a maniac he probably would've ended up shooting some hobo….or turning it on himself."

Victor nodded in agreement; trying to force himself to not think about what could have been the outcome. He had noticed the Captain's odd behavior when he had come to view the tapes immediately. At the time he had kept his mouth shut. Of course the man was behaving oddly…his kid was missing and maybe even dead. Cyborg had to reason that anyone in the same situation with any kind of emotion would behave "oddly." So he had let it slide, trying to be understanding of the all but useless answers the officer was providing him with.

Then that phone call had come. For all appearances, Cyborg had left the man to it and was unawares to the look that struck over the Captain as he listened to the caller. Victor Stone had been in this game for far too long to ever be caught "unawares," though. Again, he dismissed his suspicion when the Captain had risen up from his seat and taken the call. It was just a phone call after all, no need to stick his nose where it didn't belong. So he gave the poor man his privacy.

It wasn't until later that something clicked into place that he couldn't dismiss. Having finished looking through the tapes and hard drive over a dozen times, he had stood to stretch. He was all ready to go over the recording one final time with the girl's father, though he was already convinced it would bare the same outcome. A young woman passed by the desk at which he was working, arms over flowing with papers and he had asked her if she'd seen the Captain as of late…explained how he had taken a call from one of his men on patrol. A Patrolman by the name Dern if he remembered correctly. A peculiar look flickered across her face as he asked, continuing to juggle the stack of documents. Apparently, Dern was most certainly not on patrol. Patrolman Dern wasn't even at work today at all, but in fact out on leave, having been shot in the leg during a botched convenience store robbery a few days prior.

A warning siren had begun to sound in his head. Perhaps he had misheard the Captain, and so he thanked the young woman for her help. It wouldn't be too hard to figure out on his own. Looking out through his glowing red eye he saw a vid screen appear behind it, displaying the world around him much like its own organic twin across the way. All at once, the images in that display froze before speeding backwards, a line of static flickered across his vision. It only took him a few moments of rewinding before he saw the Captain sitting within his field of vision as clearly as he had before. The time stamp on the recording placed this less an hour or so ago. The audio remained the same…the name was Dern.

Troubled, he had taken it to Tim. Trouble and suspicions that were confirmed when a quick questioning of some officers revealed the Captain's rather aggressive and angry departure a little while back. The Chief had tried to downplay the worry that was clear on Robin's face. The man had lost one of his children, of course he was angry. All he needed was to blow off some steam, besides he was on a temporary leave of absence, off duty until this case was closed. Perhaps Tim may have even agreed except for one small flaw the Chief had made.

The gun was standard issue, they all had it. They were all supposed to turn it over when situations came into being where such leaves were needed. In all the commotion not once had the Police Chief realized that he had not ever formally asked Stathis about his gun's whereabouts. With this pointed out, the man quickly agreed with the much younger masked youth that there was in fact a problem. It wasn't hard to follow the man's route at least, tracing the squad car on the city's traffic cameras. It was even less difficult to find him after he had stopped. Opening fire in the abandoned industrial dump had a way of giving away your position.

Shaking his head in pity he glanced back over to the white garbed man in the passenger's seat. Neither of them was saying it…all of them thought it. The girl was dead and her father was jut centimeters from the edge, if he had not already tipped right over tonight that is. Cyborg was struck very suddenly with a strong wave of hopelessness for this case and its closure. There was no lead…too many dead ends. They would eventually find something he was sure of that much. Would it matter for the Stathis family though by the time they did was the much bigger question. Noel didn't have to say anything about it to let him know that similar thoughts were flowing through his own mind. Cyborg could read it on his face and hear it in his words.

"We'll drop him off…his colleagues can take care of him. We can head back to the tower and see if we can find anymore leads. REAL leads…not asshole kids who take joyrides in a squad car at the most inconvenient time. I wonder if the little punk realized what a mess he ma- Cyborg!"

He wouldn't have seen it. Not with how the figure raced out between the two cinder blocked cars at the curb. Breaks and tires screeching, the van jerked to a violent stop, missing the slopping form by mere inches. Heart pounding behind flesh and metal in his chest, he shut his eyes tightly to calm himself lest he get out of the car and throttled what was no doubt a crazy hobo. Flashes of what could have happened immediately filled his mind's eye. What a perfect ending to this day an incident such as that would have been.

"No fucking way," came the disbelieving whisper next to him. Strange. He had expected anger from man, not a quiet surprised cuss. Maybe even a 3 minutes tirade about how and why this person was an idiot, including quotes and an attached works cited list. Turning to give his teammate a questioning look, he found Savior with an expression of rather uncharacteristic surprise on his face. Not understanding the stillness and shock of his gaping jaw, he turned to look out the windshield.

And found Rebecca Stathis.

"Well…that makes _our_ jobs easier," he muttered, not really knowing what else too say in a situation like this. In the headlights of the van the thirteen year old just stared into the dark windshield, no doubt not seeing the driver or passenger behind the glass.

Noel was out of the car in a flash, all but ripping the seat belt off in the process. Coming along the side of the car shaking his head in disbelief, he stared at the torn and battered girl. There was just no way, it couldn't be real. The girl turned to him as he approached, her arms shaking and eyes large luminous balls of glass in her head.

"Becky? Rebecca Stathis?"

He had not quite expected the frantic embrace, her head smashing into his diaphragm and nearly knocking the wind right out of his lungs. The girl seemed incapable of forming words; instead gibbering and sobbing like mad as she tightened her all too thin arms around the meta's waist. A streak of red marred the white of his jacket as she clutched it tightly all while jabbering incoherencies into the night air, letting out shrill whooping screams.

From behind him he heard questioning sounds from within the van's back seats. They started out softly enough when they had first stopped, growing in volume as the seconds flew by. Once the girl began that strange hooting shriek they ceased being questions and became angry muffled shouts. The van doors crashed open, and now the commotion of Robin trying to calm the man inside beside him joined the raucous din here outside. No word from Robin could calm the man now though, he had hard the cries, had seen the slouching, half starved figure clinging to the Titan in the vehicle's headlights. A manic scream, half relief-half hysterics, welled up and joined his daughter's. The sound chilled Noel, it was a crazed sound.

"Becky?! BECKY!"

Hands pushed him unceremoniously away from the clutching, illogical being clinging desperately to him. The strength with which Stathis swung at him was almost surprising. Father and daughter now instead clung to each other. One babbling words of disjointed comfort and relief, frantically laughing and crying at the same time, the other forming no words at all and just staring wide eyed and animal like at him, touching his face as if sure it would disappear like smoke. The comprehension of her rescue had yet to sink in; she stood as if in a dream in the harsh glow of the van's high beams, staring without understanding at the people clamoring out of the vehicle behind her father.

Quickly, Savior swooped down to her level, grabbing the emaciated shoulder as gently as he could. The blank stare snapped to his face, becoming over taken in wild and desperate fear. She'd been running, she'd gotten away. That much was obvious by the choking gasps of air she was giving. How far had she run? How long had she been free? Noel hoped against hope that she could tell them, that he could break through the feral gleam and get something, before the nightmare continued .There couldn't have been much time and this would end tonight.

"Becky where is it? You have to tell us where it is." he asked trying to keep the harshness from his voice. Wide brown eyes, uncomprehending and wild, stared back at him. The girl's father gave what was almost a snarl and tried to rip the hand away from her shoulders. He didn't understand, was blind in his relief and desire to protect his child. This would happen again if it didn't end now. Ripping his own hand away from the father's pawing grasp he grabbed the girl's arm, hating himself for what was necessary.

"Get your god damn hands off her!"

"Becky you have to tell us where it is! Tell me!"

"I…I…."

"He will do it again Becky! He will do it again unless you tell us wh-"

"THERE!"

A flailing arm pointed violently into the night, the hand hooked into a frantic and twisted claw. West of where they stood, no more than a mile away at most loomed a large factory against the purple-green sky. Without hesitation Savior was off, a white blur against the night. He didn't wait, didn't pause when Robin called after him. They didn't have time.

* * *

It's dinner was gone.

The manacle that held it still was in two pieces, sliced by great and heavy force. A roar of rage ripped out from the bare and bloody chest as It spun around lumbering violently back down the slated shadows to leave the pit. How had she gotten out? Who had _let_ her out? It would rip them for it. It would tear them for it. A bloody and rusted cleaver swung out in the dark and struck the pipes along the wall, sending showers of hot sparks into the blood scented air. A musical clang joining the buzzing screeches singing around It.

_Singing_.

Someone was _singing_.

Dead pool eyes looked up through the mask and through the slated floor. It came from his workshop, somehow breaking through the litany of spinning screaming metal. It was a girl…not It's girl. But a girl nonetheless. Her voice, not all that terrible a sound, drifted through the slats.

"_Im not the one who's so far away…When I feel the snake bit enter my veins…Never did I wanna be here again…And I don't remember why I came"_

Again It's cleaver flashed out in the dark, clanging the pipes like hellish bells and setting the air to dance in bright sparks. It wanted her to run…It wanted a chase. No pause to see if the singing had stopped, no question of this fool lamb that entered the butcher's shop and sang. It ran. Ran down the pit and back up the stairs. Out onto the floor and through the plastic curtain, panting raspy through the sack over It's face.

"_Demons dreaming, Breathe in, breathe in...Im coming back again..."_

She sat at the workshop's end. Living, breathing, and fresh meat. Long blond hair fell down her back in a cascade of braids and beads, the upper half unplaited, pulled loosely back with a simple plastic clip. She was older than the others, but not much. Weak but still carrying enough meat to satisfy. It stepped into It's workshop, It's studio, It's kitchen and ground the cleaver screeching against the metal rail. She didn't flinch, swinging her legs, which did not quite reach the ground, almost lazily in the air. A small turn of her head and a set of unmatched blue eyes looked up at It from behind her glasses. A thoughtful, careful look crossed the thin face when she spoke, "I have an older half brother like you…he calls himself Kevin last I heard.

"He is _**so**_ much better at this than you are."

It gave no sign of hearing her, It's cleaver clattering onto the table beside It's bench. There were better tools to start with. Blood gloved hands gripped the handle of a long knife, shifting it between It's fingers like a batter getting a feel before his swing. The girl did not so much as blink as It regarded her, It's head cocking to the side like a curious child. Then It surged forward in a rush, a gob of fleshy scalp and matted hair fell from the bench as his hip knocked it, hitting the floor in a wet sucking smack. The knife swung and sliced through the air beside her, the girl attempting to duck her face away from the blade's downward arch. With a cracking snap it broke off against the pipe beside her, leaving It with a handle and mangled two inches of metal.

Blond hair, dirty with sweat and blood fell over her turned face, her hanging head hiding the damage from view. Slowly she turned back to It, joy rising in It's heart as It saw. The flesh beyond her mouth had split open. For a moment it sat fresh and pink in the light before blood began to gush down her cheek, then her chin and then her neck from the gash. It smiled behind the mask at how it extended her mouth inches beyond her lips and up her cheek, It could see her back teeth. Her harsh breathing caused a raw ribbon of flesh to flutter like a strip of tissue paper caught in a breeze.

Yet she wasn't screaming. Wasn't pawing at her mutilated face in shock, horror, and pain. The shark's eyes met her own and saw the flickering agony within them as a sound began to drip out from that ruined mouth. A broken-up, hiccupping sound that took seconds for It's ears to recognize as a laugh. The pink lips yawned open, wider and wider, her torn flesh making her appear so much like snake unhinging its jaw. But something wasn't right…the gaping slash seemed smaller now when in all reality it should have grown wider. It watched as the flesh It so dutifully shredded almost seemed to reach out across the gap, the tissue knitting, first red and then pink. It took seconds before the only trace of the slit skin was ever there was the blood staining her face.

Ryce smiled.

"My turn then?"

She didn't move any more than to tilt her neck and chin upwards ever so slightly. Suddenly a force hit It's chest like a battering ram, sending It flying clear across the hallway. It came crashing down against the cat walk at its end, hands splayed to try and catch Itself but finding only air. It tried to right itself and grab another cleaver from the table, but it too flew across the room. Clanging, It's tools were sent scattering and out of reach by something unseen.

"Bishop to B3. It's your move now. You don't seem to play very fair though. Your toys are a bit sharper than mine. Personally…I think we should just talk, don't you Mr. Nearson?"

It -he- froze. His name echoing through his ears. How could she know? Fists clenched into tight sinewy balls. It didn't matter. There was only one explanation and it was simple enough. She was a Freak. Just a simple Freak, like those kids down at the station today. Nothing more nothing less. Freak or not, she would not be leaving here to tell anyone his secrets.

"Don't wanna hear what I have to say, _hero_? That's what they called you…what they STILL call you after all this time for surviving the crash isn't Harry? They call you amazing….they call you _hero_. What about those who didn't make it? What do they call them?" she asked turning her head down. Her voice was cold and strange, it made his stomach ache.

"They never found the others Harry…no one questioned the lone survivor who said they died in the crash… no one questions the hero. You didn't even question yourself at first! After all there was no choice right? Darwin's laws?"

She wouldn't look at him when she spoke. Her face twisting into a sad and disgusted frown. He took a step forward, deciding already that he simply wouldn't listen. The girl was so small…so weak, it would be too easy to silence that flapping mouth. Head turning again she regarded him with that grayish hazy orb, not a cataract but a simple malfunction in her genes. The wave of revulsion he felt at seeing it sent gooseflesh up and down his bare arms.

"Except there was a choice ...and there were other survivors weren't there Harry? It was about keeping everyone alive at first…survival is something I understand too well. Survival turns men into monsters…even the best of men. But sometimes they can turn back…they can bury the horrors and tell themselves they had no choice. That they are better now."

So close. He was so close. The smell of her sweat was in his nose, he could taste her scent on his tongue. This child knew nothing of monsters, he would certainly have to show her. But first, first he thought he'd rip that revolting blind eye out by the very root, right out of her skull, squeezing until like a grape it simply popped in his hand. Another step on the catwalk, she kept talking.

"Not you though. 'Cause it was never just "survive." You couldn't let the others come back with you. You couldn't let them now that they had seen your eyes when ya took meals with them. They turned in revulsion as they "survived," some cried…your daddy cried…some even _screamed_. Not you though. Not young Master Harry. Young Harry ate quietly…eyes dry and dead. The eyes of a shark drifting mindlessly through the surf. You couldn't let them come back 'cause they saw the horrid truth even before you did."

He rushed her again, hate flooding those dead eyes, bringing them to fire and back into life. This was no girl, this hateful spiteful wraith was no human child. Not even a Freak like those kids on the bay. He'd been sent a demon. Understanding that now, he saw he had to end her quickly. No games, no tastes. For her to know these horrid truths, to see into his head meant a quick clean cut. A desperate howl rose up, his mouth forming a commandment of silence, muffled by the mask. The demon child ducked down, dropping from her seat, away from fingers itching to strangle. Again she tilted her head from where she crouched down on the floor, the sad look fled from her face, a tiny twist to the corners of her lips. The force slammed into his gut, sending him up and over her, sprawling behind her. Curling in on his gut, he lay in the fetal position coughing and tasting his own blood. And still she kept talking, her voice rising up and taunting.

"You _**liked**_ it…you craved that taste…you fell in love with it. And that was something that could never get out. That was a story you had to make sure Daddy never told. It was such a relief when you got rid of him wasn't it? You almost _**got off**_ on the sound of the hatchet sinking into his skull."

"…Shut up…" it was a weak and broken sound that came out of him. The hitch in the words so loud in the air. He couldn't breath. Hands clutched at the face behind that mask, a low keening moan rising up from him, like a child caught in a nightmare he couldn't quite wake from. He didn't see Ryce stand from her crouch to stare down at the blood splattered butcher. That tiny quirk to her lips was growing…the ice in her eyes was growing. Such a nasty cheerless smile, full of awful good cheer, flickering in the dancing lights and shadows, cast by the slowly spinning exhaust fans above. And through it all the screeching chorus of the saws.

"The people from the plane…_your own family_, Harry. They were weak weren't they? Those that weren't already dead that is. Days of hunger and cold had left them so soft, so _**easy**_ to simply use or dispose of. But people back home aren't weak. They aren't soft. They're hard to take. So easy for you to lose the game when the opponent has all his knights in place. Until Harry Nearson discovered one final truth.

"….little girls tasted so much _**sweeter**_."

A horrified, mad scream ripped up from him, shrill and animalistic. He tore to his feet and threw himself down the hall, away from her smile, away from her words. This hell-begotten apparition that stood there grinning and telling him all the awful things she knew. The ground seemed to turn to molasses at his feet. He was struck with a sudden sureness that if he reached that curtain, if he flung himself out just beyond it, he would be safe. This creature that had gotten inside his head couldn't follow there. So close, finger tips brushing just the barest hint of plastic.

Unseen, inhumanly strong hands ripped him back, threw him into the work bench on which his saws still sang. A broken sob wrenched up and out of his throat as he doubled over, his back to the spinning blade, facing but refusing to look at a girl half his size in front of him. He couldn't see her, couldn't bear to look at the shadow that raced away from her feet, looming and certainly not human on the back wall.

"There's a special place for you in Hell, Harry," she whispered softly, cutting through his breathy sobs, "I would know…He let me help make it." Nearson shook and trembled violently whipping his head from side to side in denial. A pitying look had crossed her face, perhaps more horrible then the cruel and mocking smile.

"Turn yourself in Harry. Turn yourself in and maybe….just maybe…what comes next won't have to be as bad," a small, gentle hand reached out and tugged the mask up and over his face, discarding it like garbage on the floor. The handsome unlined features from the television remained skewered up as if in pain, untouched by the gore splattering the rest of him. The same tender hand reached out and smoothed his sweat caked brow as if to comfort. The effect was explosive as her flesh finally grazed his own. The man's hand smacked it away in a fevered cry of revulsion. In a second, he reared up to his full height hands snapping forward and hooking into her vest, hooking into the fabric like claws, ripping it like the flesh he so craved. He dragged her forward his breath mingling with her own as he screamed into her face. Animal's eyes locked into her own, never seeing as a strip of butcher's apron flailed through the air beyond his back. Shaking her violently, he shrieked hysterically into her face, his voice one and now just as human as the scream of the saw behind him.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!! WHAT ARE YOU!? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU!?"

"No!"

Her hand reached out, grasped the apron's tie just in time to feel it go taut beneath her fingertips. The gore drenched strips of rawhide wrapped instantly in the saw's spinning axel. Harry had just enough time to stop his screams before he was tugged back, eyes wide and lacking of understanding. When his mouth filled with a warm coppery tang he spit out into her face, surprised by its sudden appearance. Finally rising above the adrenaline and strange pressure against his back he felt it.

Then the screams began anew.

* * *

Even from outside Noel could hear the man screaming within in the building. Crazed ramblings and orders, echoing in the night around him. There was no way of knowing who or what his screams were directed at. No way of knowing if Becky had been alone in her captivity or if others remained inside with this monster. Standing hidden outside the factory door, amid the chorus of mad screams from within, he forced a calm over himself. Silent orders rushing an adrenaline infused system, he stayed his feet that so desperately just wanted to kick the door right in and end this now. Perhaps he would catch the man within off guard, disarm him, and restrain himself from bouncing his sick head off a wall or two as he did so. Or perhaps another little kid was sitting in there just waiting for some "hero" to rush in so as her captor could blow her head right off.

A suddenly changed in the atmosphere around him brought with it the answer to this problem. A soft ghost of breeze flickered across his skin as the air behind him was suddenly and instantly displaced to make room for the form that phased out of the shadow. With only a split second glance between them, they fell into the sort of sync that only comes with years of working beside a person. A flicker of shadows crossed over the demi-demons eyes, her mind reaching out into the halls and rooms of the condemned rat haven in front of them. Small-idiot thoughts like static flooded her senses, half formed minds of rats, birds, not so much sentient awareness as much as it was basic consciousness. Above all this background noise, however, rose up single thread of being. And its thoughts were red.

"He's alone. Go."

Without a single drop of hesitation he reached up to grasp the bar spanning across the door, prepared to enter as silently as possibly. The man inside was screaming again, his voice raising up questioningly at something within the building. Then, just as the door in front of the two metas cracked open, spilling a sliver of yellow light into the night around them, his crazed demands and queries were cut short. Deep in the building came a buzzing hum that was definitely machine in origin, and it swallowed up the sudden silence.

Until he began to shriek.

Not just pain, but sheer and utter agony in its most absolute form flooded the mind that Raven's mental fingers had just brushed over. Amid that buzzing it rose up leaving any resemblance to a cry of man and becoming that of a tortured animal. There was no more waiting, no more heed paid to stealth or silence, as Savior all but kicked the factory door inwards. It flew back hitting the wall with a vibrating clang, unheard in the litany of shrieking pain, shrieking pain that had suddenly taken on a watery and drowning sound. It wasn't hard to distinguish their source, but even as both Titans raced across the room they tapered off into silence.

There was a curtain separating the large factory floor from the room that adjoined it. It appeared to be something similar to what one would find on a construction site, dangling down to the floor so as to seal in whatever dust or debris should be kicked up by the person working within. It was a common enough sight and would have been here if not for the streaks that ran down it. Perhaps once it had been clear. Now, it was practically pink, with long streaks and splatters of reds and black marring it from the other side.

A sudden ball had formed in Savior's stomach as he looked at it, not knowing but already imagining what he and Raven might find when they pulled it back. A hand reached out to pull it down, that leaden mass in his stomach both loosening and turning over on itself when the smell of the building hit him. It was a wet metallic smell, a coppery odor that he knew immediately. As he finally ripped the curtain back, he steeled his guts and willed whatever they contained to stay put, the smell all but devoured him.

Whatever order he had been prepared to give, died in his throat. The man stood some yards away, his back curved into an inhuman arch, backwards over a table saw. A puff of smoke rose up from the machine's inner workings as it hummed angrily around the matter clogging up its progress. The woman beside him lifted a single hand, eyes wide beneath the hood she pulled backwards. Blood soaked and splattered with grey and black gore he was still recognizable. Harry Nearson's face was handsome even when twisted into that rictus of untold horror and pain.

The door from behind them slammed open again, the voices of their teammates, muffled by the curtain, still recognizable. Giving a shake of his head as if to clear it, the white clad meta sighed, "This is going to be a nightmare when the press find out." A silent nod from his girlfriend told him she agreed as he made his way back to the curtain, plans of preparing the team for what was in this room at the forefront of his thoughts.

A whisper of the curtain as he passed through it and he was cut off from Raven's sight. The violet haired woman glanced away from the swaying plastic to the taut, twisted body once again, the saw's insistent humming grating on her. A wave of black and white flickered over the razor edged and serrated disk embedded in the figure's back, and the stalled humming clicked off. Some of the tension that held the corpse loosened, causing the painful arch of his spine to unfurl, his head lolling forward loosely. With his chin against his chest, he looked for the entire world like he could be sleeping, if not for the open eyes, no more than glass marbles in his lifeless skull, if not for the crimson drool dripping out from his open mouth unto the floor.

Like his head, his arms, no longer being held back by a buzz saw trying to spin, swung down to rest against his thighs, fingers that had not quite stiffened splayed out against the apron. In the silence she heard something clack against the metal grid walk below their feet. Raven barely heard the sound, a pin drop in thick silence. She may have dismissed it entirely if not for the flicker of light that caught it as she went to turn away. But the light did catch it, and she did not dismiss it. It had fallen from his fingers and landed at his feet, its small round black and white face streaked with red almost like paint. With a small mutter of "azarath" it floated up off the catwalk to eye level, light catching it where the blood did not mar it. Suddenly she understood, plucking it from the air in front of her, tucking it into her cloak. She hadn't been able to sense anyone at the bridge, hadn't been able to sense anyone in the building besides Nearson. But these things didn't matter.

Neither Nearson or Stathis had been alone.

* * *

It was pouring now. The ominous thunderclaps from earlier were chorusing with the rush of rain pounding the pavement. Hours ago the coroner had come and removed Nearson from his own saw, packed him away, and quietly shipped him to the morgue for immediate autopsy. Raven supposed she should have been grateful that this had all occurred late enough into the night that the witnesses to this whole circus of affairs were limited. She also should have been home asleep in her bed-perhaps even Noel's-, safe from the angry storm raging on above her head. Instead, hours after the entire team had loaded up their gear and headed back to the sanctity and sanity of their tower, she was here. It was a long shot at best coming here at three o'clock in the morning, but some sort of deep seeded intuition told it was the only shot she had.

A pale hand reached over her head and tugged the hood of her cloak up, sending half of her face into shadow. The dark of the alley was absolute, a dingy light above a door ahead of her casting a sickly and faint yellow glow not unlike the lights from the factory. It was weak and only set about a foot or two of the dark alley into visibility. It had been only a few days ago that she had stood in the same alleyway during the harsh bright daylight and how different it looked wrapped in shadow.

Slowly, she stepped out into the downpour, the hood she lifted over her head instantly flattening to her scalp. Glass from her last encounter had remained unswept and it crunched nosily beneath her shoes. Out on the street a vicious wind howled, sending a garbage can rolling by with a clattering crash. Violet eyes strained through the dark in vain, knowing what she was seeking was not simply going to appear if it was there at all. From beneath her cloak her hand came again, the dark leotard clad arm extending gently into the dark. The balled up fist attached to her arm unclenched and nimbly fingers extracted the metal disk from her palm. A splatter of blood was washed away in an instant by the rain, running in a pink trail through her hands and down her wrist. In the dim light the ying-yang button glinted dully, before she lifted it into the shadow. A sight she must have made standing alone in the middle of the night holding the stupid trinket out into the dark. Seconds passed in the stillness and nothing came. And then a flash of lightning lit the alleyway in a split second strobe.

The millisecond of light was all Raven required to latch onto the wrist below the hand that was reaching slowly to steal the pin from her fingertips. Harshly she tugged her arm back, yanking the frail frame that wrist belonged to off of the dumpster on which it perched. She came to the ground with surprising ease landing at the demi demon's feet in a crumpled graceless heap. Above the pattering sound of rain came the dull thwack of her wet dead weight hitting the pavement followed by a hiss of dull pain, Raven had forgotten about all the glass. One look down at the crumpled heap of a girl washed away any worry of the glass shards no doubt burrowing into the girl's hand

Though her face, a mask of splattered blood and gore, was washed clean by the rain in a matter of moments, nothing could hide the crimson stains on her clothes and in her hair. It couldn't hide the awful good cheer that sparked in her eyes for the briefest of seconds until the light she had been yanked so roughly into glinted off the broken and twisted glasses, hiding the eyes from view. There was hate in that cheer, hate and love, awe and disgust, excited expectance and abject horror. Raven had never expected her to actually be here. And nothing prepared her for the swirling and conflicting emotions she found in Ryce's eyes.

"You killed him."

A chuckle, a humorless grating sound laced with weary exhaustion, crackled up from Ryce's throat. Resigned, bemusement weaved through it, the sounds of someone trying quite hard to perhaps not burst into hysterical tears. It was a surprising sound and not what Raven had expected at all. She caught herself almost feeling a strange sympathy for her, before reining it tightly back. When Ryce finally spoke her voice cracked with fatigue, "I think we both know that's a lie, Raven. Anyways…not much of a loss."

Any lingering sympathy quickly retracted as Raven glared down at her. Shakily, the younger girl was pulling herself to unsteady feet, head down and eyes cast away. Regardless of her distinct effort to not meet the demi demons eyes Raven pressed on, "So you judged him yourself? Is that it? Decided to take matters into your own hands?"

"No…and you know that too," Ryce whispered, her voice -still cracking- growing just a bit stronger in her quiet, "I didn't lay a hand on Nearson…not in the end. What happened was simply…an accident. Serendipity even. A deserved and fitting punishment I'd say…You can't stand there and pretend you don't agree with me Raven. Nearson was a monster."

"It's not up to you to play God and decide."

The goth's skin practically jumped clear off her frame when the laugh all but barked out of Ryce's mouth. It was that same queer sounding laugh from before, half mad and involuntary. Part of Raven began to wonder if perhaps the girl was crazy when she mumbled out to no one in particular, "Alex I'll take Irony for $500, please."

The hysterical laughter had tapered off into breathy and hitching giggles, further cementing the violet haired woman's opinion that whoever and whatever Ryce was, she was certainly not all there. She had turned her back to Raven, a hand rubbing up and down her opposite arm absently, trying to summon warmth to the trembling naked skin. Crimson smeared down the pale flesh of her arm as she did, before ribboning to pink and then clear in the storm. A quick glance at the hand's dangling twin revealed to Raven the raw, blood-oozing gouges in her palm, painful and dyed black in the dark. Mismatching eyes followed the Titan's gaze and found the stigmata like wounds as well, the low unhinged laughter finally dying on her lips. Gingerly, Ryce lifted the sore looking appendages up to her face before squeezing them tightly into fists. A fresh stream of blood wound its way down each wrist contrasting sharply with the now white knuckles of her balled up hands. Before the long fingers even had loosened in the slightest, the elder of the two knew that the gashes would be gone when her hands reopened.

"I know who you are, Ryce."

"No. You think you know _**what**_ I am…and even that's only half right. You have no idea _**who**_ I am."

There was a tinge of surprise to be felt at the sudden icy and even tone of the strange girl's voice. The abrupt strength and conviction it held was such a far cry from her earlier keening, carrying now even a trace of arrogance, however slight it may have been. Even the manner in which Ryce was standing had changed, the cringing posture gone, her spine becoming a steel rod and the cowed shoulders squared and challenging. Tilting her head ever so slightly back towards Raven again, she could see the girl's face had become set and determined. A nerve had been hit somewhere, the swing of Ryce's mood proved that, and Raven wasted no time in pressing further.

"Maybe that's true…but maybe _**what**_you are is the only part that matters."

The effect the words had was as instantaneous as those before had been. The straight proud curve of her spine seemed to snap clear in two, and the defiant resolution on her face disintegrated into nothing like the blood on her hands. The stressed _**what**_ caused her to flinch away slightly, as if the word had found a way to physically reach out and strike at her. All at once the pride, the strength, and the resolve were gone. Her voice rang out hollow in the alleyway, it came out hesitant and stuttering,

"…I'm not….I'm not like them. I'm not like my family, Raven…I-I…I jus' wanna help…"

Overhead the lightning rendered the sky into shards of green glass once more. The thunder that followed cracked in the air around them almost like a visible thing. Ignoring the violent flinch that all but overtook the girl's malnourished frame, Raven seized her upper arm tightly. She didn't buy this act.

"Why are you here?" she hissed. Her voice rang out cold above the pattering of the rain above them. She was sick of these games and sick of her riddles, and so help her, this was going to stop right now. When the silence overtook them again the darker woman gave her arm a shake, perhaps a touch more harshly than she had really intended. The shorter girl's head lolled sideways on her neck, the wheat blond and blood pinkened hair sticking to her rain soaked cheeks as she did. Finally she looked up and locked her eyes with the gothic woman.

"Oh Raven we're all beyond why …you know that"

The vice like grip on the younger girl's arm slackened when she saw her eyes. The hysterics, the flinching, the incoherent mutterings. None of these were the signs of madness stealing over the strange youth; it was so easy to see that now, to hear it in the hopeless and empty tone to her voice. The gore-speckled mask of earlier had hidden what was really lying so clear across her very young and drawn features. Even the faux bravado and defiance that had seem to give her at least a few seconds of strength had been a façade. This was not the act, the act was the show she had put on for Nearson and Stathis. There were many emotions swirling beneath that single functioning eye and they were not encroaching on insanity in the least.

Ryce was afraid. But even that wasn't quite right. Fear was too light a word for what Raven was seeing here. Raven couldn't read her thoughts, couldn't feel her presence even in this alleyway. But she could see her face. Absolute and abject terror was mirrored in her eyes, which only now Raven could see shining with a threat of unshed tears. Ryce was speaking again the voice small and child like, lilting every syllable with desperate need.

"The Stathis girl was supposed to be a gift, a sign. "We come in peace Earthlings," Ya know? B-But X never came…he always comes with me but I can't find him. I was supposed to wait 'til X came…but I c-couldn't. I couldn't let her just…just die like that. It wuh-wuh-wasn't right. He's gonna be so mad at me."

"Who is X?"

"I'm here to warn you…you and the others…but I can't…not yet. It's against the rules."

"Who's rules Ryce?"

"I'm supposed to wait…"

"Warn us about what?"

"I can't…please…"

"You can't what Ryce? Give me something…anything! No more god damned riddles!"

She was shaking Ryce's arm once more, careful to not allow her own pale fingers to turn into their vice like grip form earlier. Teeth worrying her lower lip, the spectacled girl turned her face away from her gaze, looking back over her shoulder almost imploringly into the dark. Across Ryce's face, her desire to flee was overwhelmingly obvious, like a frightened dog awaiting a boot to finish its arch through the air, trying desperately to find a place to hide before it connected. Not this time though, Raven thought as she grabbed her other arm and forced her to look up at her.

"Look at me Ryce! No more games!"

"You don't have a choice! I don't have a choice!" she cried out with sudden urgent conviction. With a twist she freed herself from the loose grip before looking up at the slightly taller woman with begging and desperate eyes, "I can't! You say you know what I am? Then you know. _This_ _**is**__ a fucking game_. It's _**HIS**_ game. There are rules Raven…you know that. There's so much at risk here…please…coming here…doing _this_…I'm in deep enough as is. Please, I'm asking for one more week."

"Not a chance…now talk."

"God damn it why don't you understand!? I want to talk! I want to tell you everything!_** BUT I CAN'T**_!" she cried out miserably, the tears were flowing out over her eyelashes now, disappearing in the soaking rain. Hysterics were looming over her, threatening to swallow her whole if she did not get a handle on herself. She was so close now, so close to spilling everything consequences be damned.

"She is quite right in that regard."

Raven's eyes widened as Ryce's face all but imploded in a look of near comic surprise. The desperation that had been lining her face fled in the tense look of alarm. As quickly as the surprise had come it was gone, her eyes focusing on something just beyond the gothic woman's shoulder from where that new voice had emerged. Her lips peeled back into a snarl, a hiss dropping from them like an angry cat. Instinctively, the dark haired woman turned to see a taller man standing just barely out of the shadows behind her, where seconds ago no man had stood. A well dressed man with dark red hair with a single shock of white streaking through it and a face that forced the half demon to recall the girl's eyes. Two ages fighting for dominance across one span of space. Dry beneath the protection of a simple black umbrella he stared beyond Raven at the space Ryce occupied.

…the space Ryce had once occupied.

"Let her go."

With barely an iota of tension in her ankles Raven eased back, her idea of sprinting into the dark after the blood stained teen still fresh in her mind. Fingers gripped into her palms tightly as she listened for any sound that could tell her the direction the girl had went. A splash of a foot in a puddle, a jangling clang of shoes against a fence. But the pounding thunder and rattling rain had given her cover. A few days prior Ryce had bragged at her ability to stay out of the way…apparently this applied to whether or not her being in the way would be preferred. It was as if she had disappeared into the storm itself.

A deep frown was etched into her face when she turned back to face the seemingly middle aged man behind her. She should have been surprised and shocked at his presence. After all Jump was not by any means on his way home. There should have been no level of understanding within her. But there was. And it meant she had been right all along, no matter how wrong she wanted to be in her labeling of the girl. Even after the discussion that had just transpired, Raven had not quite accepted what she was dealing with. It was not until now, standing there soaked and staring at this man that it finally hit home. Above them another fork of light ripped across the purple and black sky. She would have been right back at square one if she was wrong, but all things considering that might have been better for everyone involved.

"Hello Raven."

There was a hint of amusement in the man's voice as he said her name, as if he had not just appeared out of nowhere. As if she did not have what could potentially be an extremely dangerous creature roaming about Jump. There was a knowing gleam to those wizened eyes and for its complete normalcy it made her cold. Again all signs pointed to her being right. For once she hated being right.

"Jason Blood…fancy seeing you here."

The occultist had gone silent his gaze moving off of her to lock on the spot that minutes before Ryce had unceremoniously toppled onto. A frown line creased Raven's forehead as she waited, not having to be an empath to sense the lingering amusement and bemusement in Jason Blood's quiet. Try as she might she could not fully contain the wince that flew across her features when she heard him sigh. Her eyes shut as if struck by a sudden headache when he finally spoke.

"I had to see for myself. Conclusions are not a good thing to jump to with no evidence. It appears I was right though. You've got Azrael's little girl on your hands."

And there it was. The one thing she was hoping above all else NOT to hear in this conversation. Anything else in the world would have been welcomed. They had a child of Azrael running loose in the city. One of thousands of beings- practically a race unto themselves-whose flare for hatred of all humans was staggering. There was no way to keep the resignation out of her normally stoic tone as she asked quite needlessly, "She is his then?"

He smiled at this, an odd expression considering the situation at hand, "Indeed. The baby of the family at that. I've met some of her siblings bit I never encountered her personally. I'm not sure how fond his brood is of my other half as you can see from the rather darling and charming way she greeted me. But I've certainly heard of her. Interesting little bit of fluff she is…" His voice had begun to trail off slightly at the end of his statement as if losing himself suddenly to a train of thought. A violet brow quirked up towards her hairline at this assessment. As if having one of her kind wandering about was not bad enough, she was "interesting" to boot. She didn't want to ask, didn't want to know.

"Interesting in what way?"

"If you know anything about Azrael you know he has very strict rules and laws, and the punishments for breaking those rules and laws are quite brutal. Hence the poor girl's manic and terrified behavior. I'm thinking Daddy told her not to get involved with you Titans just yet. She was ordered to not tell _**you**_ where that girl was," he said frowning deeply at Raven. All the younger woman could do was nod numbly, mind tracing back over the girl's actions tonight. All the interference she had run, all the riddles and games she had put into action to get Rebecca back safely. She hadn't broken her father's rules, merely bent them to her liking.

"So she went around us…a loophole in what she was told to do. She couldn't come to us. She couldn't lead us there, so she had someone else-Captain Stathis-do it for her. Is that what you're saying?"

"Precisely. There are ways Azrael expects his children to act in the mortal realms and there are subjects about which he feels no one is at liberty to discuss…including me," he spoke before giving a brief chuckle, "Then again…considering my "state of being" there is not much with which he can threaten me for my silence."

To what end though? What did a child of Azrael, someone who should despise the human race entirely, have to gain from saving a child? There was no way for Raven to wrap her head around why Ryce would run such a risk for something that had so little to do with her. Something strange seemed to hover about her, beneath the manic aura of terror she was exuding tonight. Raven couldn't help but wonder exactly how to go about her and what-if anything-came next.

As if reading her very thoughts Blood spoke again, "I cannot tell you much about her Titan, Azrael has kept her very close and very quiet all her life. The only thing I can say is, treat her gently. Her presence here tonight is no accident…the Little Miss broke many of her father's rules, even if she did not really break them. It's only that and her favor with him that will keep her head from rolling I'm sure."

"Azrael has a regular army of offspring, and they hate humans. Why should this one hold any special favor with him?" Raven interrupted. Azrael was a being of unfathomable power and great strengths, something many of his children held in common. Ryce was...well…there was no polite manner in which to call her weak. The body she held was no doubt frail regardless of whatever powers may lurk within her. If anything she should have been looked down upon by her kin.

A dark and rather slight smirk came over Jason Blood's face at her question. When he spoke it was with an air of someone who speaks the truth but withholds so much more, "Because _she_ is half _human_…the _only_ child with any human at that. More than that though, because she was a good girl who kept daddy's secrets for a long time. Don't underestimate her Titan…there's much more than meets the eye here. She was not wrong in her assessment of being different then the rest of her family. Whatever harm is coming your way-and trust me, if she's here to warn you, it is-this girl has chosen your side.

"Which may be all the worse for you."

* * *

Silently, he watched the half demon disappear into the night once more her face calm and neutral beneath the arch of her hood. The eyes beneath the shadows of the cloth however, betrayed her away from the tranquility she was trying so hard to exude. Worry ridden or not she had known she had quite a mess to deal with before the night was done and in the endless days that would follow.

Jason Blood's eyes remained on the darkness she had disappeared into for only a few spare moments before he turned and stared out into the black of the alleyway once more. For several minutes he stood watching the nothingness in silence as if waiting for something to emerge from it. He was greeted by only the distant rumble of thunder and the rattle of water cascading down the gutters. A quick glance down at the glimmering and expensively complicated watch around his wrist told him how late the hour had finally grown. With a crisp turn he walked out towards the street several yards from the sickly yellow glow of the alleyway lamp. Out into the night he stepped, careful to stand away from the sidewalk's edge as a truck bellowed past. The curb and several feet of sidewalk were splashed in a wave of dirty, flooding rainwater, missing his pants legs due to his caution.

The teenager sitting slouched on the curb was not so lucky.

An eyebrow inched slightly towards the flash of white that marked his dark red hair. The wave of dirty water dripped off of her still form back into the gutter from which it came. Just as she had made no move to avoid it she made no move to wipe it away, remaining motionless on the curb as the storm continued to rain down around her. No indication was made that she was even aware of his presence. Her eyes were fogged and distant, focused on nothing as if in a trance.

"You have already broken enough rules tonight to fill a small novela…might as well go all out and break the rest," he said quietly to the soaked teenager.

Her head dropped a little at his words as if flinching away from them, eyes still gazing indifferently into the flooding gutter. A sigh trickled past his lips as he shifted the simple black umbrella from one grip to the other. In all his years he had seen a great many pathetic sights and this girl seemed determined to worm her way into at least the top ten. The panic-fever eyes from the alley, now hidden behind a veil of wet pink stained hair, had fallen into a dull and blank stare. With great caution he extended his now free hand towards the rather defeated looking creature.

"Get out of the gutter girl," he muttered.

She jerked from his offered hand head lifting ever so slightly. The minor tilt of her neck caused the veil of hair to shift, revealing her good eye, which while still dull had sharpened into a slit once more. Deep in her throat a guttural growl was vibrating into a hum behind her closed lips. Blood was struck with the image of a feral cat just seconds away from sinking tiny, needle-sharp teeth and claw into whatever stupid soul was nearby. The helping hand was retracted and a small rather forced smile with no feeling behind it made its way across his face.

"Fiery little thing I see. I could flay the flesh right off of you in a second you know?"

No answer. Just that monotonous, level rumbling from behind her lips, no louder nor softer than when it began. The smallest of sparks glittered deep in her functioning eye, the iris done contracting in that threatened manner. Slowly it was rounding out again, becoming human in the poor light. Yes, there was no doubt that Azrael's girl had a great deal of bite to her bark. Knowing full well who and what he was, she still held his gaze with a single, defiantly glittering eye. He had a hard time labeling this as spunk or stupidity. Which ever it was…it was a contradiction to her current position.

"All that devil may care attitude…which is why I don't understand why you'd rather cower in the rain swollen gutter in the middle of a storm than go somewhere safe…or at least dry."

Silence. Just that unreadable and calculating gaze locked with his own. Blood had a suspicion that he could transform right here and now, threaten to tear the child limb from blood soaked limb. She wasn't going to budge though. She wasn't going to open up. Daddy had taught her well.

"All this…just to appease some neurosis-sodden pretty boy that is too much of a nance to do his own job."

Another flinch, barely there, just the slightest flick of her eyelids. A flash of defensive annoyance unfurled in those eyes and her mouth dropped just enough to show the whites of her teeth. The canines were sharper than most he noted, she seemed to have a hard time hiding that aspect of her lineage. Either that or she simply didn't see the need to bother. For a moment he almost believed the girl would speak, defend herself or even her father in some way, shape, or form. The slouched defeated curve of her spine had fled as she straightened.

But the muted smoldering in those eyes had already extinguished. As soon as it came it was gone and her gaze dropped away from his own. The hair that covered her face before would have flopped over her brow in a veil had it not been so sopping wet that it clung to her scalp. The moment of defiance had gone…she was pathetic again. He gave a slow shake of his head and a sad smile as he stepped back, raising the previously offered hand out from under his umbrella towards the street. The yellow cab that had been trundling dutifully down the obscenely early morning road gave a flash of its lights to indicate his notice. Blood gave the youth the barest of glances as he climbed gracefully into the back seat, shutting the umbrella and setting it down on the curb before flicking the door shut behind him. A raised hand paused the driver's inquiry before it had left his lips, as the other hand rolled down the dark window to look out at her once more. She hadn't moved, but her eyes were on him, thoughtful and alert in their stare. Oh the Titans were in for such a ride with this one he thought with an inward laugh

"One day…one day soon in fact…I think you are going to grow a spine and tell Daddy where he can go and forcibly insert his rules. I hope to see it," he said with a charming smile, not quite missing the alarm that was flickering in her eyes as he rolled the window back up. Her gaze lingered on the dark glass as it pulled away from the curb, following its path as it rumbled away, down the street and then eventually out of sight. Stare unbroken she reached out beside her and grasped the handle of the umbrella he had left behind. It sprang open with a dull fwoop as she lifted it tiredly over her soaked and chilled form. She didn't move from the curb though.

She waited.

* * *

Author Notes: Ryce is certainly a manic little bugger isn't she? The who, what, and why of her presence is coming soon I promise. As for the last chapter (in case there is any confusion) despite the seemingly different personalities…the girl who stole the car, who called Stathis, and who nearly got her face shot off are all one person and that person is Ryce. As I said, she's a bit manic and contradicting the reasons will eventually be explained.

Told ya I'd get this chapter out soon enough.


	6. Chapter 6

_She'd never been on a picnic before. Never smelled the crisp, clean scent of the grass laying beneath the soft folds of a blanket as she sat in the light breeze. Never sat with someone who wanted nothing more than to simply be near her, hear her voice, see her face. Already she could feel the faintest of blushes creeping across the bridge of her nose like ivy up the side of some old abandoned building. It was all so wonderfully alien, this place, nothing like her home and her family, nothing like the constant fear of what or who was waiting around the bend in the next hall. Would she find empty solace or searing pain? How ironic that in such a dystopic and ruined shell that housed such horrors and dangers she would find a haven. A light brush of fingertips across the back of her hand snapped her back from her musings. He was grinning at her, the owner of those fingertips, in that beautiful way only he seemed able to. Grinning and holding a small battered box out towards her. The knot in her stomach that grin had given life to, twisted tighter ever so slightly. Ears burning red, she realized he had been speaking to her all the while, ignoring her oblivious sinking into daydreams._

"_What is it?"_

"_Nope…open it first."_

_He had gotten her a gift, not an easy task in this shattered and wonderful world. Part of her was already building up a rebuke for why he really shouldn't have, fully meaning it. But he was still smiling at her and in spite of herself she could feel the corners of her mouth ticking upwards. He was truly contagious that way. So, without any further hesitation, she took the small box from his hands not allowing the small jolt of electricity that rode up her spine to show as their fingers brushed once more. It was not very heavy, and she could feel its contents give a slight shift as it passed from one grasp into the next, sensitive ears picking up the sliding sound of whatever it held. Raising a single eyebrow up questioningly she shot him the briefest of glances before opening the hinged top with a small creak. _

_The necklace was far from new, but really what was truly new in this wasted place? New or not, it had recently been meticulously cleaned and polished, setting the grey toned metal to a gleaming shine. Eyes widening she slipped her fingers into the small velvety lined box and around the thin silver chain. Gingerly, she lifted it up watching as the round Celtic knot swung slowly in lazy circles from the breeze, tracing the intricate crisscrossing of the circles that formed it. His eyes were still on her when she looked up, his grin softening but still present on his face. It was so easy to see the anxious expectation in those eyes, to see that he was awaiting her approval._

"_Why?"_

"_No reason…thought it would make you smile…."_

_She did smile…then she leaned forward without so much as a warning and pressed her lips softly into his own. It was a clumsy kiss, sweet for all its inexperience and he leaned into it with equal eagerness. She should have known better than to do this. Already she had fallen, fallen deep and fallen hard. It was so easy to fall for his smile despite the storm that was up ahead. It was a smile just for her. For once she had something that was just for her that no one could take away. But that wasn't the only reason was it? She should have known so much better than to relish the feeling of his fingers combing through her hair and not simply because of the terrible herald she was. No there was something more than that, gnawing viciously at the back of her mind as the kiss deepened. Swatting at it, battening it down she felt only the brushing of fingers against her cheek, tangled deep in her hair, the pleasant heat coursing across her face, burning a pit in her stomach._

_All at once her mouth filled not with his taste, which she still remembered so clearly, but with the cold taste of copper. His lips against her own grew cold and unyielding. Warmth and wet were coating her hands and the blanket below, as laughter began to ring out horribly through air around her; the sky above grew dark. Yanking backwards she stared into his face and the blood dribbling in a current down his cheek, over his doll's eyes stare and over the slack corpse's mouth that moments ago and been pressed against her own. His smile gone and only now she remembered why, as the heart broken scream ripped up and out of her throat._

Eyes snapped open as she sat up, gasping desperately for air. With a sharp crack, she rammed the top of her skull into the shelf she had been dozing under. Blunt and vicious pain shot through her nerves like liquid fire as hands flung up to grasp at the offended and bruising scalp. Snarling out, "Sonuva…" to no one in particular Ryce fell back flat before lifting a bare foot and kicking out at the offending wood above her, in place of the snarled curse that had been halfway formed. The time rotted shelving gave a dry, snapping sound as it splintered under the force, sending puffs of dust into the air and raining grime down on her. The dull swirling orb, now basketball sized and its rings still and shrunk against its circumference, gave a loud thud as it fell to the floor, rolling away from the ruined shelf that once held it. A single bloodshot and purple-bagged eye opened to watch its progress while she curled into a fetal position. Without her glasses even her good eye afforded her only a blurry haze of image, but even that was enough to see the red, pulse the orb gave as if affronted by its treatment. Rubbing the already swelling knot of flesh furiously, like that would somehow ease the pain, she simply glared and raised her other hand to extend her middle finger.

"Yea? Well…fuck you too…"

The Orb responded by glowing its typical smoky grey. Clawing blindly for her glasses, she continued to glare at it. She hadn't really been expecting an answer, the single flash of red being nothing more than the artifact's reaction to mishandling as opposed to some form of communication from the outside. Still…yelling at it made her feel better. A weary glance at her wrist to a worn and battered watch did nothing to improve the ache forming in her abused skull.

"27 minutes…2 days and all I get is 27 minutes…well that's just **super**."

Suddenly, she felt in the mood to yell at the inanimate glowing bauble some more. Yell? Who was she kidding? She wanted to _scream._ Hell, maybe she'd even fling the stupid thing right into the rotting boathouse wall, followed by a swift drop kick into the chilling waters under this ramshackle pit. Bye bye, so long, do not pass go, do not collect $200, in fact go straight to hell thank you very much. With her hands perching the frames of her glasses on her nose she planned to do just that. That is until a low, grating growl rattled up from her stomach, followed closely by a cramping emptiness that seemed determined to all but fold her whole body in on itself. The violent will she felt towards the artifact bled out of her as the crippling hunger bled in.

With a despondent gaze, she shifted along on the dirty floor to an even dirtier crate lying some feet away. Shifting the cracked top off, she looked down into its rather unsatisfying contents. A shipping crate filled with tiny plastic containers, all containing the same orange, oblong pills, all with the same fat lettered white logo that was fading on the crate's sides. It had fallen off a truck a few days before she'd led them to the Stathis girl. Another cramping groan rattled from her innards did nothing to quell the repulsion she felt looking at them. Despite the hunger, her stomach rolled queasily at the thought of popping some of those sickly sweet pills with their artificially plastic faux-orange flavor into her mouth.

Dipping her hand in she shifted the containers until her fingers found the round smooth surface of something different, soft and natural unlike the strange synthetics of the orange mints and their containers. Fingers clutching the baseball sized object she realized even before she lifted it into sight that it was too soft. It came as no surprise that the apple hidden away had gone to rot, and without so much as a second glance she tossed it backwards, hearing the plunk as it broke the water's surface before slipping into the black. No matter, there should be another in there somewhere, she thought shifting back into the crate, searching blindly for purchase. A small smile played on her lips when she found it, the flesh much firmer on this fruit and promising tart sweetness.

All at once a set of needles ripped into her flesh just above the knuckle, and fire raced up her arm. The firm flesh of the apple was gone, and in its place her fingers sunk into warmth. Her mind fuzzy from exhaustion recalled her dream and the feeling of warmth and wet coating her trembling hands. Horror…crippling grief layered with the pain for only a second before something leathery and bald whipped sharply across her wrist. Ripping her hand up and out of the crate, she kicked at it out of repulsed and pained reflex. The box split and spilled its contents unto the floor, a shower of rattling tic-tac boxes and a single green apple. It rolled across the grime-coated planks, revealing the small chunks of green gnawed from its surface by small bucked teeth. Before she could so much as blink, it too rolled off the floor and into the water, that soft plunking sound filling her head again.

Tears of shocked pain glittered briefly in her eyes as she stared at the ribbon of blood making its way from one torn knuckle down her wrist. Eyes turned away from the oozy bite just in time to see the worm pink tail disappearing over the rim of the crate, before a fat grey body scuttled swiftly away towards the wall, dragging that loathsome tail behind it. She could hear it's nails-tiny as they were-scratching against the wood as it fled. The sound returned to her all the rage the hunger had robbed her of, washing over her in a wave of fire. With a glow of her left eye-much brighter than usual-that rat came to a sudden halt, squeaking in a split second of surprise before it's head dropped to the ground away from its twitching and then still body. The floor beneath the tiny puddle of blood split open in an 8-inch slash.

Her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps as she glared at the decapitated rodent, wrapping the torn flesh of her hand absently in the tail of her shirt. Forcing the skin on her knuckles to knit back together would be a mistake right now, tired and hungry as she was. Already the headache from earlier was morphing into tiny pop-flashes of light and pain behind her eyes, a migraine from the simple exertion of killing the rat. It was an effort but she attempted to compel her quick, gaspy respiration to slow and deepen, an attack right now would have been a bit of a fatal set back.

Lungs finally under her control, her eyes traveled briefly to the walls of the boathouse, staring at the rusted and ancient lobster and fishing traps that lined it. She could have thrown one into the inky black of the abandoned boat port, tossed it and cringed away from the splash. Surely something of substance would unwittingly crawl or swim into its confines and she had no qualms with a raw meal. But then what? What happened when she had to haul it back up? She would have to get too close, would have to look down into the dark as she towed the rotting and wet rope up. So many possibilities. It could snag…she could slip…ancient floor boards warped with salt and time could crack like brittle beneath her…her skin tightened in gooseflesh at the thought of her body breaking the surface and slipping into the black with those apples.

Weakly, she gathered herself up unto her feet, glancing out into the setting sunlight, already feeling the terror winning out over the hunger. Shuffling even further away from the water, she set her eyes blankly on her boots, ignoring the dark purple stains long dried on their toes. It was with that same slack gaze that she snapped them unto her feet, that her hand reached out and flicked the glowing orb up into the air where it shrunk to its far more mobile marble size. The look of nothingness remained even as she stepped out into the cooling air, eyes unseeing and yet set on the city before her.

* * *

Things that gave the various Titans a headache were uncountable in number really. Most of them had Starfire's cooking and/or Gauntlet on their respective lists somewhere. Really stupidly themed villains were another one shared by all. Right now Savior was glaring at a picture cut with meticulous neatness from a newspaper, which was indeed giving him a very **big** headache. Colossal even. The headline it had been under had been of a ridiculous font size, declaring Nearson's horrid death and even more horrid crimes. The picture was taken mere hours before the man had unwittingly decided to use his buzz saw as the world's most intense back scratcher. It showed the pale- too pale Noel saw in hindsight- man entering the police station where he would soon be promised by the city's young protectors that they would stop at nothing to bring him to justice. The meta had to wonder what exactly had been going through the man's head as he stood before Tim nodding with such genuine sympathy. Was he even aware of what he was agreeing with at the time? In the photo, hordes of cameras, booms, and media hounds were scrounging around him in the background, none realizing what that ill, solemn look on his handsome face actually meant.

Yet all of this wasn't what was causing his head to pulse angrily. This case, as messy as it had been, was closed. There were a few - very few - loose ends to be tied off, a few questions still to be answered. But as unpleasant and violent as it seemed, all those fraying and difficult threads that should have remained had been sliced clean in one fell swoop. No…Nearson was no headache. The headache stemmed from the face peering up at Nearson from just above his elbow, smiling blackly at him. Face blurred and unfocused, she was something most would have simply not even noticed, had they not known what came after. The headache he was suffering had sprung up from a small seed of thought that perhaps he should be grateful…whatever Ryce had done had certainly saved the city a great deal of funds and paperwork. A twisted and dark way to look at this indeed.

"Right there…Christ we each had to walk past her. How did no one notice?"

"She's very good at staying out of the way. Besides…we had our minds on slightly more important matters."

"Still think she's "just a nice kid" or did helping the coroner pull what was left of Nearson off of that buzz saw change your mind?"

From the doorway the blacktrinian frowned deeply at him. It had been an unnecessary swipe Noel supposed. The fact that Ryce had anything at all to do with Nearson had been an unknown to them until nearly a quarter of a day later. And even if they had known…then what? None of this was Nigel's fault, and there was no sense or justice in acting like it was.

"Sorry. Uncalled for."

"Indeed. And no…I do not. But nor do I think that she is out to get us…"

"Of course not."

"…Raven agrees with me."

It was now Savior's turn to cast the other man with a dark look. Raven's little, secret excursion had not stayed secret long after. Part of him knew, of course, that she could handle herself; something about being a half demon made you far from a push over. Another less reasonable part of him had been utterly furious that she had gone to meet a strange, potentially dangerous being with no back up and without any of their knowledge. Her dead panned expression and stoic response of _"She would not have revealed herself if anyone else had come…it's like dealing with an exceptionally skittish, bi-polar rabbit,"_ had done nothing to ease that anxiety either. An anxiety he knew to be rather selfish and self-serving in its origin. Of course he was worried about whatever warnings this girl was herald to, that was something that went without saying. But lurking underneath that worry was the ever-present idea that this girl could turn around and any moment and blurt out his name, this time to a ravenous and gluttonous monster known as the mass media. His name was a battle he was in no way, shape, or form ready to wage, not yet.

"It's been quiet today…we've split the city into quadrants. Garfield and I are going downtown to see if anyone has seen her…care to come along?"

Noel gave a noncommittal grunt, still sitting and glaring at that unfocused face leering up at the cannibalistic politician. With a rather cross look of annoyance Nigel walked over to the chair, feet clacking noisily on the uncarpeted floor. Without so much as creasing the clipping he plucked it from the other's grasp and placed it on the desk beside him, ignoring the blank look he received in doing so.

"She was at the police station…we didn't see her…she left the police station. That is all that little piece if paper is going to tell …you are just going to strain your eyes and make that head ache of yours worse and than I have to deal with you…find shoes and meet us at the elevator."

* * *

"Why did we ask him to come again?"

Glancing at the green youth behind him Nigel simply shook his head in resignation as a black and red-garbed Savior swung out of sight somewhere above his head. It had started out well enough; the team had split into 3 groups each taking a segment of the city to search. They had been less than a half hour into the search and Scalpel had started to notice the annoyed glances Savior was granting them both every so often. Soon enough those annoyed glances had progressed into first terse and than outright barked commentary about the efficiency presented in this manner of search. Beast Boy's jovial attempts to add levity made the stormy look across the white haired meta's face increase exponentially. Soon enough it was clear to Noel at least that searching with them was a waste of time. So when Noel had taken it upon himself to split their group even further and search from the skies on his own, Nigel could not exactly say he minded.

Judging from the look on Beast Boy's face, the doctor couldn't assume he minded much either.

"By a show of hands who thinks Savior's being an ass…again that is."

Without skipping a beat the red-garbed doctor raised both claws up into the air with a sigh. Secretly, Nigel was almost wishing that the girl they were scouring the city for managed to avoid his cantankerous teammate. The powers that be only knew how well _that_ little meeting would go.

Raven had debriefed them on what little she knew before they had begun their search, though it was easy to see Noel had only been half listening caught up in his own worries and thoughts. Their target had powers unknown and seemed to be the daughter of some otherworldly creature named Azrael. The name had brought looks of questioning and familiarity upon some faces, but none had seemed able to place it. She was half human. She was here to warn them. All in all, it was rather useless information Nigel had thought. The only thing of importance was something they had all already known. Ryce was timid, easy to startle, prone to fleeing. All traits that would make her rather difficult to find and more difficult to corner if they even did.

"I'm gonna run in here and get a soda before we go to the next street okay?"

It was with Garfield's words that the blacktrinian snapped from his thoughts. Nodding, he watched the green young man step into the small delicatessen, the bell above the door clanging noisily on its perch. Granting himself one final glance over his shoulder to the Noel-less sky, he followed him inside. With any luck the proprietor would recognize the blond teenager depicted in the picture residing in his pocket. He headed for the counter, passing a perusing Beast Boy to find the register unmanned. A quick survey of the small store found the older gentleman, who Nigel could see pictured in an article tapped to the wall behind the counter, standing in one of the few aisles. Large arms crossed over his rather ample stomach, he appeared to be frowning down at something the tall shelves were blocking from the alien's view. His face was conflicted, a weird hybrid of irritation and compassion balancing the other. Curiously, he made his way around the shelves to see just what was causing that the clashing expression.

* * *

Paul Scattinno was a hard-working man. He had brought the space for this delicatessen over 30 years ago and had maintained it ever since. The money that fed, clothed, and schooled three children had all come from the hard work he'd put into this place. Paul believed in that work.

Once in his life as a boy of five he had taken without working, without earning. A piece of penny candy and nothing more had been the spoils of this single lapse. His mother had found out and without hesitation sent him back to the store, sporting a red backside and a sign hanging from coat that said in bright, bold lettering, "THIEF." Paul had never taken without first earning again and had no tolerance for those who did. Countless times before he had chased kids from his shop, yelling and hollering as he held a nearly pilfered item in his other hand. No one stole from Scattinnos…not unless they had a death wish. It was always the same…a candy bar…a dirty magazine…that is before they had been pushed not only behind, but also beneath the counter by frantic worrying mothers. Not once had he tolerated it in over 30 years.

So why was his resolve crumbling now?

Perhaps it was the fact that it wasn't a candy bar…or a dirty magazine…or even the cheap makeup his daughter-in-law had badgered him into putting in the second aisle. It was a piece of fruit. No kid steals an orange for the thrill. Or perhaps it was the way the blond teen's clothes hung weirdly loose on her frame. More than that, he thought it could be the way she refused to meet his eyes, staring down at her feet in shamed silence, clenching a bloodied and torn fist around a swatch of her shirt serving as a bandage. Purple crescents marred the pale expanse of her face beneath her eyes, a large knot like bump swelled along her hairline.

"Kid…I can't have ya stealing stuff from my store."

She gave no indication she heard him, turning her eyes away from her feet to concentrate on the shelves in the aisle beside her. He wondered where the girl's parents could have been, briefly because one only had to look her over for a few moments to see that she was no doubt on her own. A heavy sigh fell from his lips, seeming to catch her attention as she looked up at him. The eyes in her face didn't match, though they both were blue. Finally, he knew above all else why he could not quite bring himself to chase her unceremoniously out the door. With a pang of pity he realized the darker of the two eyes were the same shade as his granddaughter, the pride and joy of her grandfather's life since she had taken her first breath nearly a year prior.

Without pausing to consider his actions he raised a hand, pointing in her face as he gruffly ordered her, "You move so much as an inch kid and I'll be on you before you like a junk yard dog on a pork chop. _Capisce_?"

Confusion lit across her face and the short young woman nodded her head, watching him with those strange eyes and he walked back behind the counter. With a careless toss the orange flew back into its crate. Only a single glance up assured him she had not moved from the aisle. Though the shelves towered over her head a good six inches the mirror hanging in the ceiling's corner showed her still waiting.

When he returned it was with a paper bag in hand. The girl was eyeing both him and the brown parcel cautiously. Dimly Paul could hear the quiet ding of the front door opening once, then twice but he did not turn to greet the customers that had wandered in. Instead he extended his arm to the girl, offering the bag, which she took it hesitatingly. Folding his arms across his chest, he arranged his face into a grumpy look, trying to squash the urge to smile as her eyes widened in surprise.

"You take that…and get your scrawny hide to that girly shelter on Grant Street. I catch you taking so much as a gum wrapper from my store again and you won't get my lunch you'll get my boot broken off in your narrow ass. Understood kid?"

A smile broke out on her face, not overwhelmingly large, but a smile that eased any doubts he had all the same. For her threadbare appearance the girl had a great smile. Contagious even. The exhaustion lined features seemed to ease with that grin and Paul imagined that given some good rest and a few good meals that face could probably even be pretty. So caught up in feeling good about what he had done, he began to give her directions to that woman's shelter some 3 blocks away. He never noticed as her eyes caught the mirror above his head and the smile melted away from her lips.

* * *

Nigel could not believe what his eyes were telling him. It was simply too much of a coincidence. Too easy to actually be occurring. Ignoring Garfield's ramblings of soda choice, he moved forward staring silently at Ryce's back. The store owner was talking to her, and though his sensitive ears could hear the words his concentrated mind did not comprehend them.

With uncanny care he shifted forward, not allowing the metal encasing his feet to clack on the linoleum floor. All at once the relaxed and slightly slouched curved of her spine began to straighten, her limbs visibly tensing. A moment of disbelief flooded him, until his eyes followed the slight curve of her neck, the tilt of her head. She had not heard him. No, worse than that, she had _seen_ him, standing behind her reflected in the curved mirror above their heads. In the convex glass their eyes had locked, the expression on her face apprehensive. His mind tried to call up an earthen phrase concerning the lights of a car and some mammalian ungulate, but he sqaushed the thought back down. Even from far away, even with how the curved surface distorted her face, he could see the unease and urge to flee overtaking her. A single wrong move, a spoken word, if he even broke the shaky eye contact they were holding in the mirror, she would take flight. Hands raising up, palms out he stepped forward again, trying to communicate a calming message without words.

"Hey Scalpel do you want diet or reguuuu-Holy crap you found her."

Mismatched eyes snapped away from his own, the room grew icy cold, and the shelf next to him rocketed forward blocking his path and line of sight. Above the tinkering of shattering glass as objects crashed from shelf to ground, he could hear the proprietor give a caw of surprise and shock that mingled with Beast Boy's own. With a single leap the blacktrinian was up and over the fallen shelving just in time to see the deli's screen door swing shut with a jangling ding. He took off after her, slipping once on a paper bag, ignoring the rather unpleasant feeling of his clawed feet decimating the contents within it.

The noise and chaos of the city greeted him in a rush. Buses, taxis, and cars zoomed past him in a blur of traffic; faces seemed to bleed together in the crowds. Then he saw her, standing at the corner of the block, eyes wide and searching the throngs of people just as he was. A split second after her found her, she had found him and without blinking rushed into the cross walk just as the light above her flashed red. With the small lead she had, she was across the street just as he darted out after her. Jerking around suddenly, she lashed out a hand at the light hovering red above him. A sudden flash of cold ripped through the Titan and without so much as a flicker of yellow the stoplights switched from red to green and green to red. A car horn blared noisily, too loud and too close. Without a glance he leapt up and out, a claw coming down on the hood of a taxi screeching to a stop where he once stood. He slid across the shiny, yellow metal ignoring the furious cursing voice of the driver who operated it.

"Sorry!"

The suggestion of where he could shove his apology was ignored as he took off again, eyeing the narrow alley between the two buildings where he had seen the girl turn. Whipping around the corner he found her scrambling awkwardly up a tall, chain-link fence separating one side of the block from the next. He slowed his sprint rising up his hands as unthreateningly as he could manage again, as she slipped, halving her progress.

"Ryce."

The girl that dropped down from her climbing and reeled around was not the same girl he had seen that day in the grocer. Her face was drawn and eyes sunken. The good-natured cheer glittering behind her glasses replaced with an animalistic fear.

"Calm down…we just need to talk to you."

Even from several yards away he could hear what could have been an attempted growling sound, if her lungs could afford her the proper air. As it was she was gasping desperately, mouth opened wide and yet seemingly useless as air rattled sparing through it. A single clawed hand made its way into his coat as he took another step. A sharp gasp, strained and painfully forced, the growling growing stronger for a split second as his hand disappeared. He could see her eyes flash and contract as his hand reappeared.

The snarl fell from her face, and the growl was cut off, though the shallow desperate gasps remained. A small smile, unsure and he hoped friendly, appeared on his face as he extended the inhaler to her. She eyed it cautiously, no longer flinching as he stepped forward once and then twice until he was a few arm's length away. Bending without breaking eye contact he rolled the plastic inhaler the best he could towards her, pleased when it clacked noisily into her boots. She too kept his gaze was she bent to retrieve it, relief flooding her tense features as she breathed in a puff of the medicinal mist. Slowly, the heaving of her lungs lessened, as did the wild terror in her eyes. Her gasps departed leaving the alley silent. Seeing this Nigel spoke, his voice soft and calm.

"No one is going to hurt you Ryce…you need to understand that."

She gave no answer, just the unsteady quiet stare.

"Scalpel?"

She flinched back a step, shoulders colliding softly with the chain link, and setting a rattling sound up from them. Eyes narrowed and teeth slightly bared, she stared the new arrival down. Beast Boy stepped quietly beside his taller teammate, granting her a similar look of distrust. She hadn't taken off again at least, the green youth thought, thankful for small favors.

Looking her in the eye, Beast Boy could now see where Raven had been mistaken. This was no frightened rabbit. Of all the animals he'd ever seen or been, he saw nothing of a timid bunny in this chick. If anything she was a fox…the eyes staring back at them tinged with a sort of crazy intelligence…the kind that was deliberate but still random, simultaneously smart and stupid. A fox will run and flee from its pursuers, but when there was nowhere else to run? A fox will turn and show you just how sharp their teeth were with wild abandonment. The shy demure creature becoming a crazed vicious rage when backed into a corner.

…or a dark alleyway.

Suddenly, Beast Boy had to wonder if perhaps Noel was right about this girl.

"You have to come with us Ryce…you know that right?" Nigel whispered calmly, in what Gar had come to mentally call his "doctor voice." It broke her stare away from Beast Boy, and he thanked Nigel silently for that. When she finally spoke the voice was weak and cracked, dry as ancient paper.

"I…can't…"

A fit of coughs and choked gasps broke out from her. A poorly bandaged hand came up to rub uselessly at her abused and desert throat, and Gar could not help but feel a pang of pity. Sighing in defeat he extended his hand, offering the parched and hacking teen his unopened soda. Watering eyes met his once more, still reflecting that slightly crazy and clever glint, but yet not as intensely as before. Her coughing carried on for a few seconds, as she eyed him cautiously, before finally she inched forward away from the fence. She took the offered drink, flinching away as her fingers briefly touched his own. Then, swinging her head back she drank deeply, finishing half the bottle before finally coming up for breath, her face now lax with relief. Eyes locking again he spoke.

"So you're Ryce huh?"

"Yup…and you're **Garfield**."

He could not keep the annoyed frown from ripping across his face at the stressing of his full name, or keep the straight line of his shoulders from slumping. Her serious and stoic expression trembled oddly, lips thinning and ticking at the corners. A small broken noise grated somewhere in her throat, for a moment allowing him to think another asthmatic coughing fit was on the rise. A similar sound from behind him though canceled that thought out. Nigel's ill concealed snicker seemed to end Ryce's restraint, and a wide smile broke out over her face and she allowed herself to giggle openly. Her laughing apparently contagious as Nigel joined her, ignoring the rather irritable expression crossing the shifter's face.

"Yea, yea yuck it up…like Nigel's any better…and I'm pretty sure Ryce is a guy's name."

If anything the two began to laugh harder as this observation. Gar could only glare at them both in irritation for a few seconds longer before he felt a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. It really had nothing to do with the name, after all. The ridiculousness of the whole situation crashed down over him and soon enough he was chuckling right along with them. It was an odd relieved laughter and Gar could not exactly understand it, even if he joined it.

Soon enough it had begun to taper off, though the girl's smile had not quite fallen off her face as she quieted. It was a nice smile Beast Boy noticed…transforming her face and making him almost forget what had unnerved him about her in the first place. However, one look at Nigel's concerned expression seemed to rip it straight off her lips.

"Ryce…you have to come with us…you know that right?"

"I…I can't Ni…Scalpel..."

"You are still waiting for this "X" then?"

She said nothing, instead looking away as if the alley walls would somehow provide them with the answer that she refused to give. Already Nigel could sense how very little ground they were going to gain by questioning her. But still he supposed he had to try to get some sort of answers out of the little enigma.

"Raven told us that your father's name is Azrael…is that correct?"

No answer, but he watched her eyes carefully. They flicked back to him, darting to glance with the question as it was voiced. It was something of an answer he supposed, though he was not sure whether it was an affirmative or negative response.

"You can't answer that?"

A slow and slight shake from side to side. No. At least he was getting somewhere he supposed. Not far enough however, and the only thing Nigel was sure of was that he wanted to get SOME information before sending out a call to the others. Diplomacy and garnering trust was not a strong suit of some of his esteemed teammates, not that he would be mentioning any names. Before he could think of yet another dead end question to ask, it was Beast Boy who broke in.

"You're here to warn us right?"

For a moment she continued to look away from them, trying to avoid all eye contact. Her face twisted a bit, as if in thought before she turned back towards them. It was easy to see she was trying to find a reason that she could not answer this question, to see if there were any traps hidden in it. Casting first Gar and then Nigel with a cautious glance, she finally gave a small and slow nod of her head. A small smile of triumph was barely visible on the shorter Titan's face.

"So whatever it is…you are on our side?"

The nod was not small or slow this time, her head rapidly bobbing in confirmation. Nigel finally saw where the green shape shifter was going with this and picked up where he had left off, "Then that's all that matters for now. You don't have to talk Ryce…we can't and won't try to force you. But you have to come with us. We can't have you wandering Jump City by yourself."

Her face had fallen a little with that. A small flush had built up on her cheeks, a tell tale sign of slight embarrassment as she recalled their last meeting. When she spoke her voice was stronger than before, more sure of herself and her words, "I know…I know. The name thing was just a mistake though. It's not like I'm gonna walk up to people on the street and blurt out the numerical codes to get in the tower."

"…You know the codes for the tower?"

The indignant frown that turned down the corners of her mouth fell into a sheepish and comically surprised expression. Looking from one Titan to the next she fidgeted nervously from foot to foot. Awkward silence prevailed for only a few seconds more before she sighed.

"…Okay…I guess I'm starting to see your point…you really won't force me to talk until X gets here?"

Nigel nodded, extending a hand to her. Once more Ryce eyed it with hesitance, just as she had the paper bag…just as she had with the soda Gar had offered her minutes earlier. Already the much taller man could see the trust that was building in her eyes though. Despite all the potential set backs, it appeared this was finally going to work without so much as a single struggle. He breathed an inward sigh of relief when she straightened and began to reach out her hand in acceptance.

There was barely a moment to react to the sudden flash of white that collided into the wall besides them. He had just enough time to register Ryce's eyes widening before she flinched away abruptly, jerking her hand back and crouching defensively. To his right Beast Boy let out a cry of surprise before reeling around, ready to defend himself against their would be attacker, ignoring the familiarity in that blaze of white that had just rushed past them. The second Gar's eyes fell on the man standing at the end of the alley he felt a groan fall from his mouth. Great, just what they needed…yet another high strung person in this cramped walk way

"Could you WARN us next time, Noel!?"

"Do NOT use names in the field!"

"…I'm pretty sure Ryce knows it already…didn't she shout it a few days ago?"

"Savior…calm down…she's already agreed to come with us to the tower," Nigel said subconsciously shifting back into "doctor voice." The white haired meta gave no indication he heard the other two, his eyes locked over their shoulders in an icy, stone like stare. Behind them Ryce met his glare nervously, shifting from foot to foot once more. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Nigel saw that their efforts of calming her and earning some degree of trust were quickly depleting. The anxious, frantic glint was bleeding back into her face, her eyes narrowing on the white, gossamer strands floating and twisting out of his teammate's palms.

"Savior! Stand down! She already-"

"And you just believe her? Why would she do that now?" Noel asked finally breaking away from the nervous girl's stare. In his gut Nigel could feel a knot of tension tightening, already recognizing the argument brewing in Noel. Every single movement the other man made was screaming confrontational, and it did not take any particular high level intelligence to know that any head way gained in the past few minutes was about to go right out the window.

"Yes. I belie-"

"C'mon Sav…Scalpel and I handled it! We told her so long as she comes along we won't make her talk and she-"

"You told her what?"

Black and blue eyes narrowing angrily, the blacktrinian shot his younger teammate a look of poor venom. Realizing his mistake Beast Boy quickly snapped his jaw shut and placed a hand over his mouth as if that would somehow take back what he'd just said. All but physically shrinking under the two furious gazes he shifted away mumbling, "I'll just…go stand over here…"

Instantly Noel's focus switched back to the doctor, "Who told you to make a deal with her Scalpel?"

"Deal!? Savior she hasn't DONE anything. You need to get it through your head that she is not some criminal!"

"After what she did to Nearson-"

"Of for the love of…did you hear Raven this afternoon or do you just hear what you want to hear, when it suits you? She did not touch Nearson, it was an accident!"

"I don't buy that Scalpel…She is coming with us and she is going to **talk** and that is fin-"

Before he could mutter the final two letters of that word, Noel's eyes darted to the side before his knees buckled beneath him, ducking low towards the ground. Nigel watched as a strange yellowish blur ripped through the air where his head had once been, before colliding with the side of an unawares Beast Boy's face. A pained and inarticulate howl ripped up and out of the green meta's throat as his hands flew up the right side of his head. Jutting painfully out of his cheek and jaw were a multitude of what the doctor could only describe as spines, black and yellow and thin quills buried into the flesh of his face. The doctor in him took over and he rushed to check his teammate, before he heard the jangling of feet upon the fence once more. Jerking around he watched the girl reach the top, dread filling him as he saw Noel close behind.

* * *

Run…

It was the only command her body knew. In an instant she had been transported back to that day when she first ran from the Mortimer battle. Except now she was so much weaker, now they were so much closer. She had wanted so badly to take Nigel's offered hand…her mind racing with the idea of safety, shelter, and warmth. She would have taken that clawed hand, until Noel's words had rang clearly through her head. It was only then she realized the dangers lurking in Nigel's promise…only then she realized how childish her budding trust was…only then she let the fear completely consume her.

A pang of vicious guilt tried to rip into her as she heard Beast Boy's cry of pain, swiftly drowned in a sea of black panic. She didn't pause to think, throwing herself into the fence and pushing upwards. This time there was no slipping back down in strangling exhaustion, gasping for air that would not come. A second or two was all she needed before she was leaping over the top. Her eyes were set on the large metal dumpster only a few feet from the fence, a quick roll over which and she'd be free.

Pain…unbalanced…falling…trapped…

Hands hooked into claws to balance herself before she toppled over the fence and unto the ground below her. A glance back…blood and shredded denim hooked into the bladed, barbed wire at the fence's top. She was tangled…she was stuck. There was no thought or conscious reasoning, she simply plunged her hands into the rust caked metal spiraling around her leg and began to tug. More pain trickling through her nervous system, muted and quiet as if happening to someone else. All she knew is she had to free herself, had to ignoring the sting of her flesh as she tried to pull herself out of the sharp wire before…

A hand came down on her shoulder, firm and strong. Frantically she looked back into the angry face of Noel "Savior" Collins, and saw the set determination there. She saw the eyes of a hunter looking down at a full trap. Baring her teeth, letting her fangs show she pulled her one hand free of the wire and mesh. With a snarl she threw her weight forward, bloody hand shoving hard against his black clad shoulder as she pushed. Her mind raced for something…anything…to get away from his grasp. Say something her mind snapped…say something…say something…_**SAY SOMETHING!!!!**_

"Fuck off Momma's boy!"

A flicker of surprise in his face, and she ripped away from his grasp, throwing all of her weight backwards. For a moment she felt almost like smiling in panicky and cruel amusement at the words she had blurted out. Another part of her instantly hated herself for such a low and rather vicious blow. But before she could so much as bat an eye, she felt her balance shift; she heard the ripping tear of her jeans giving way from the bulk of her weight. A hand frantically grasped at the air, finding nothing. Overbalanced and legs suddenly freed, she toppled from the top of the fence backwards and twisting, bracing herself for the blow of concrete against her body. Before the ground could rush up to greet her though she felt her head collide with something only a few feet distance from the start of her descent. A sharp pain and pressure just above her temple, the sharp crack of bone and against metal…

And then sweet, sweet darkness.

* * *

"God damn it Savior!"

That…had not been what Noel was expecting.

For a moment the black and red clad young man did not know what to do and so he simply stared at the crumpled form lying on the ground at the foot of the fence. Beneath him the fence shifted as Nigel pushed himself up and over, metal encased hands completely unaffected by the sharp barbed wire at its summit. Noel could only watch silently as the doctor settled to the ground beside her and gently turned her over.

The entire left side of her head was doused in red, a small puddle of it remaining on the ground as the doctor cradling her face hissed something in his native tongue. Flexing a metal claw, Nigel ripped a large and long strip from his brightly colored coat, before wrapping it firmly around the gaping gauge in her skull. A drip of red splattered across the grey expanse of one of his hands from above. Noel's stomach clenched slightly when he followed the drops path to the red splattered corner of the dumpster her head had clipped when she had gone toppling over. From behind Beast Boy's voice rang out, shocked and seemingly oblivious to the spines still jutting from the side of his face.

"Dude! Noel you killed her!"

"Don't be ridiculous! She's unconscious. We have to get her to the tower, I don't have the right tools with me and her brain could swell if we don't treat this," Nigel snapped irritably as he set to work bandaging her head as best he could. A swift and toxic glare shot upwards was not missed by his white haired teammate still hovering at the top of the fence. Shaking himself free of the surprise that had overtaken him since she'd toppled away from his grasp Noel said, "Scalpel what do you need me to d-"

"I think you've done enough, Savior. Beast Boy! Call Cyborg. Get him down here with transport immediately," the icy, clipped tone seemed strange coming from the normally pleasant doctor. Places now reversed, Noel foresaw the altercation that would arise from further badgering the blacktrinian and slid quietly back down to ground beside Garfield. Glancing at the young man, he could more clearly study the strange quills embedded in his face. There were at least a dozen of the thin, stiff needles, varying in length and all the same muted yellow, with black stripes. Apparently the shock of seeing the girl's head bounce off the receptacle was swiftly departing as the smaller male's alarmed face began to wince and cringe with obvious pain. Raising a hand to gingerly attempt to pull one of them free he let out a low hiss of pain before glancing up at Noel.

"Ya mind calling Cyborg while I try to lessen my resemblance to a porcupine?"

Noel nodded and turned towards the mouth of the alleyway. The orangey red light that had cast the sidewalk beyond the shadows into fire earlier had fading into tones of purple and peach as night approached. When he emerged from the dark a brisk and bitter breeze bit into him, carrying the sigh he exhaled with it. Lifting the bright yellow COM from the black and red jacket he called out over their frequency, "Cyborg respond to Grant and Monroe ASAP. We found her."

* * *

_450 miles away, in a small suburb of Alabama a young mother was chatting with her friend on her cellular phone. The mother's name was Coutney Vendee…she was 19 years old. Sitting outside her parents' home on a lounge chair she was scowling out into the air at nothing in particular, as she snapped and harped to the other young woman at the other end of the line. Beside the chair sat Jeremy, age 2. Hair greasy and face smudged with the remains of a dirt clod he had just shoved into his mouth, he fixed his watery stare on his mother._

_"Yea yea…tell me about it…well I wanna…I can't! The gross lil fucker has a cold…"_

_Unsteady legs pushed his pudgy filth stained body upward, diaper sagging neglectfully off his hips. A grimy hand reached out to grapple at his mother's thin wrist._

_"Omigawd! Ew god damn it! Ugh…nothing…he just got dirt all over my arm. Hold on one minute."_

_Without skipping a beat, she dropped the phone unto her chair and roughly picked the boy up,holding him arm's length away from her body as if he were an overflowing bag of trash. Stomping a few yards away, she plopped him down on the dirt, "Stop being a fucking pest Jeremy," she snapped before delivering a quick and hard swat to his backside. The child whined pitifully, before watching her storm back over to her phone and settle herself back into her chair, her back to him._

_Knowing better than to cry he sat quietly on the ground. Before long the sun glinted into his eyes. That watery, unhappy gaze fell upon a space several yards away from where he sat and saw the glint again. Once again he pushed himself up and toddled towards it, his mother's disgusted and bitter prattling growing softer behind him. It was a coin…a large golden colored token from the pizza parlor arcade three blocks away. Gurgling in curious delight he sat and grappled at the shiny metal, chubby and grubby fingers playing across it's sun warmed surface before sticking it into his mouth, delighting in the metallic taste and the feeling of warm asphalt beneath his legs_

_Back where she sat, the shriek of tires and a heavy fleshy thud cut though her call, ending Courtney's worries of dirty grubby hands in an instant._

* * *

_His name was Nikolai Balakirev. He had lived all his life in Russia, though the town in which he resided had changed from time to time. At 98 he had lived a full and eventful life, watching as his country changed its face and its name throughout his many years. He had survived the wars, had outlived all 8 of his siblings during the Famine of 1921. He and his wife had watched them send that crazy young Gagarin boy shooting into space and then again when he shot into the ground at the age of 34. God did not intend for us to touch the stars his wife had said. She died 25 years ago. He'd watched that too._

_4 children..13 grandchildren…2 great grandchildren from the states that he had never met. He'd led a good and full life though part of it had died twenty five years prior. Sitting in bed staring down at the photos of that dead life and the children she had given him, he smiled. Slowly his eyes drifted shut, his chest rose slowly and fell one final time._

* * *

_In Pioche, Utah, 26 year old Melody Walsh fell over in front of her kindergarten class. The pulmonary embolism killed her before she hit the floor._

* * *

_Andrew Chambers…age 55…fell of a ladder and broke his neck in Auckland, New Zealand._

* * *

_Rhoda Kelswald and Michael Smith overdosed in a garage in Castle Rock, Maine. Ages 17 and 29._

* * *

"Soooo…let me get this straight. You found her in an Italian deli down town?"

"Yes."

"Nigel and you managed to chase her down, calm her down, and convince her to come to the tower."

"Yup…"

"And then Sparky over here bashed her head off a dumpster."

"Don't be an ass, Rob. That's not how it happened."

("Close enough.")

"_**I'm**_ an ass? You cracked a girl half your size's skull open and _**I'm**_ an ass?"

A white-gloved hand clenched tightly into a fist under the table at which Noel was sitting. It was difficult but he quelled the overwhelming urge to plant that fist into the goofy grin aimed at him from across the table. Robert, playing his usual role, seemed to be oblivious to the fury that he was slowly fanning the flames of. Before he could bring up any sort of retort to counter the blonde's obnoxiousness, a shrill yelp rang out through the kitchen area the team had gathered in. From the seat next to Noel, Gar glared, pouting at his tweezers-wielding girlfriend.

"That hurt!"

"Did you think pulling quills out of your eyelid was gonna feel good?" the skinny blond muttered as she dropped the last spine onto a napkin. Choosing to ignore her Beast Boy simply rubbed furiously at the red and needle marked side of his face with one hand while the other held up a compact mirror. The spines had not really sunk all that deep into his skin; already most of the tiny pinholes were clotted with minuscule marks of red. Clapping the mirror shut, he frowned at the oversized yellow and black thorns resting on the table. Tentatively, he plucked one up and lifted it to the light, wondering out loud, "What are these things anyway?"

"They're quills…similar to Erethizon dorsatum in structure."

Green eyes darted away from the quill and fell upon the figure entering the room. Signature red coat discarded, Nigel crossed the floor, feet tapping and scrapping along the way. Freshly washed claws were being dried on a rag, though nothing could be done for the red stain that had spread grotesquely across his white shirt. Before anyone could question the source of those stains, Tara, brow knitted in confusion asked, "Erethi-what now? Is that some kind of…creepy…Blacktrinian thing?"

"No it's the American Porcupine," Beast Boy said sporting a confused look of his own, "So you're saying she shoots porcupine quills? Where the hell does she keep them?"

"I said similar…not the same. They keratin based like a porcupine's quills and they possess microscopic backwards facing barbs that make them difficult to extract like porcupine quills. But they're not only hollow but appear to have an opening in the very tip, like the venom delivery system of a viper."

"Venom!?"

"Don't interrupt Gar. There was not so much as a drop of venom in the quill, you are fine. Sophie also found traces of Hydroxyapatite, which along with everything else is NOT found in porcupine quills," Nigel said, and was greeted by a room full of confused faces. Gar voiced what everyone thought,

"….Hyrdo what?"

"Hydroxyapatite…it's a mineral found in tooth enamel."

"So, these are her teeth?"

"No…they're not teeth…they're not quills…I don't know what they are. They're not part of the anatomy of any animal or creature I've encountered in this world or any other."

"That would be because she is not of this world."

Silent up until this point, Raven gazed neutrally at the larger alien waiting her explanation. A little over an hour prior she had received the call that they had found Ryce. The pleasant surprise she felt quickly sunk when upon meeting the group back at the tower, she watched their resident doctor climb out of the car carrying the young woman, using parts of his jacket to stem the blood flowing out of the side of her head. Jason Blood's advice to "treat her gently" was shot to hell it seemed. Before she could so much as blink the Blacktrinian had rushed past her into the tower and towards his medical bay, Sophie in tow. She didn't have to voice the question of what had happened, as Gar climbed out behind him. Face like a pin cushion, he jerk his thumb backwards at the vehicle where Noel still sat, ordering her to, "Ask Captain Belligerent." Needless to say the story was not exactly what she'd been hoping for. She'd made a point to avoid anymore conversation with Noel, instead allowing him to continue in his own version of sulking over the incident.

"How is she Nigel?" Raven asked.

"She hasn't woken up yet, but that seems more due to her exhaustion than the head trauma. I was going to stitch it but it seems to be closing on its own. The lacerations on her hands have already scabbed over. Those regenerative abilities you were telling us about seem to be involuntary when she's unconscious but light her pain receptors up like a Christmas tree, so I gave her a small dosage of analgesic along with a tetanus booster."

"Regenerative abilities? So…she's Wolverine?"

"…what do large weasels have to do with regenerative abilities, Robert?"

The alien simply stared in innocent confusion when the blond sighed and shook his head slowly. With a roll of her eyes Raven stepped in, "No she is not "Wolverine." Her abilities from what I've seen are not instantaneous while she's awake; she has to actively focus to heal." Having got the conversation back on track she glanced back to Nigel, who was still trying to understand the connection between large bear like weasels and healing. Deciding to let this go he took her prompting and continued.

"While she's unconscious her healing slows down from what you described Raven but it's still exponentially faster than a human being's. If she keeps this up, the wound on her head will be nothing more than a faint mark in 3 days time. It's draining her though, another reason I think she's yet to waken."

Tim nodded silently, taking in what the doctor was telling them. For all the confusion and chaos it seems that things were working themselves out. Noel's over reaction aside, they did have the girl in custody at least, and while injured it was nothing life altering. The masked youth could only hope she was as willing to aid them now that she'd been hurt. Regardless though, it was time to understand a few more things about their strange little guest. While it had already become common knowledge amongst his team that this girl was half human, he could no longer forgo asking what exactly her other half was composed of.

"Well Raven, you've told us that she's part human…I think we can all see that. What else are we talking about here? Animal, vegetable, mineral, alien, or demon?"

"None of the above actually. Angel."

In the silence that swallowed the room, the sound of a hand thudding limply against the tabletop, nearly echoed. A glance towards the Savior revealed him to be staring at his significant other in quiet shock. All at once the color seemed to bleed out of his face, at first matching his hair and then growing slightly paler as Raven's words finally slipping something into place for him. He had been struggling with the girl's father's name for hours. It was foreign and yet somehow familiar to him. Somewhere in the back of his head it had continued to buzz, continue to gnaw at him with this feeling of having encountered it somewhere before. Now, it had clicked. Angels…the name Azrael…

"Hold on a minute. Are you saying…that we've got daughter of the _**Angel of Death**_ in our medical bay?"

"Archangel of Death actually and yes…that's exactly what I'm saying."

"So I…"

"Broke open the skull of the youngest child of one of the gods of Death? Yes, Noel."

Ignoring the white hair and dark garbed man pinching the bridge of his nose in front of him Vic frowned at Raven. Already he was questioning why the gothic woman would joke at a time like this. Her assertion at the girl's heritage could not be serious after all. Shaking his head in refusal he said, "Angel? Really? C'mon Rave you don't really believe that right?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"'Cause there's no such thing…they're just a story like unicorns, and leprechauns, and-"

"Demons? Ghosts? Aliens?"

"Yea exac-," he started out, a small triumphant smile on his face, before exactly what she was saying sunk in turning the growing grin into a look of sheepish realization, "Oh…yea." Seeing her teammate sinking back into silence Raven turned her gaze back to Robin, face set into a cautious neutrality.

"From what Blood told me…Ryce is the only one out of all of Azrael's children that carries any human blood in her veins, which could explain why she has any inclination to help us. It also explains why I cannot sense her, she can block me out. Being that she is half angel however there are certain laws by which she is supposed to live and that greatly restricts what she can and cannot do while she is here. Even when she wakes up I doubt she is going to talk to any of us until the arrival of whatever and whoever this "X" person is. If we try to force her…well…we've already seen what happens," she intoned refraining from granting Savior the withering glance that her speech had been building to. Judging by the strained look on his face it would be the last thing the man needed. Raven could only hope that Blood's description of Ryce's favor with her father had been exaggerated. She could not be sure how the relatively unknown death god would react to one of his favored offspring getting her head abruptly bashed in.

Tim didn't give her long to ponder though. Standing up from where he'd been seated at the table he looked around at his assembled teammates and said, "Well if she isn't going to talk we're going to have to find out what we can on our own. No sense invoking the wrath of death by harassing it's kid. Do we have any idea of where she's been hiding out all this time?"

"Gar might be able to figure it out," Sophie said from the doorway from which her boyfriend had emerged several minutes prior. In her one hand she held a small rather worn black vest while the other seemed to be preoccupied in grasping the rest of the unconscious girl's clothing, including Tim could see a white collared shirt on which blossoms of red were already darkening into purple. Crossing over to the green meta, the heavy set women held out the unbloodied dark garment, "Her clothes are filthy…and the shirt's ruined. I stuck her in a set of scrubs for now but I'm sure wherever she's been staying has left a scent on what she was wearing day in and day out."

Cringing ever so slightly Gar nodded his head before his features abruptly began to shift. A split second later a green bloodhound was peering up at the mortician with its droopy and perpetually sad eyes. Without skipping a beat the large canine padded over and began to carefully sniff the black material. Snout wrinkling slightly he cast a rather annoyed look up at his teammates before all but burying his nose into it. Seconds late he pulled back rearing onto his hind legs before morphing back. His face was one of disgust.

"Seriously? 1) It still reeks of blood and 2) she's definitely been wearing the same clothes since she got here and its funktastic."

"When you're done whining if you have anything useful to say we'd love to hear it."

"Okay okay! Don't get you leotard in a twist, geez. There're all sorts of scents settled into the fabric. It's hard to distinguish them all but the strongest were dust, some artificial orangeyness, salt, and low tide."

"So she's been lurking around the beaches?" Tara thought out loud as Cyborg shook his head in thought coming up beside her.

"Can't be…beaches are closed for the season. She'd have no cover…the cops would have kicked her off."

"The Marina."

The group turned to the unusually quiet Noel. Not even glancing at them he stood and walked over to the window overseeing the bay. Following his gaze Tim saw the large marina and boat port, its lights glittering in the recently fallen dark of night. Picking up where he left off Noel glanced over at the team leader.

"There are all kinds of abandoned buildings down there…plenty of places for her to hide out without being seen or bothered. Explains everything besides the orange scent. "

Nodding his head in agreement the former boy wonder cast a quick glance over at the clock embedded into the kitchen stove. While it was already dark, the hour had not grown too late just yet. Just enough time for a quick look around he decided, see if there were any clues left behind by their current "guest," that could shed some light on what she was doing here. Robin simply ignored Gauntlet's groan of protest when he spoke,

"We'll head down to the Marina and check it out before it gets too late. Vic you stay behind and man the COM."

"No prob. fearless."

"Nigel I want you and Sophie and Raven to stay back and watch over Ryce…You and Raven seem to be the ones she's interacted with the most and know the most about her. Don't want her going into a panic and destroying half the tower if she wakes up."

"Why don't we leave Sir Happypants behind too? That way if she blinks he can break her arm or something."

"Candide, I swear to-"

"Both of you knock it off! The rest of us will search the boat ports and see if there is anything to find."

The three placed on a sort of guard duty nodded their heads before making their way back to the medical bay. Cyborg was already making himself comfortable in front of the large screen, typing on the keyboard nonchalantly. Tim watched as he synced up the computer terminal to their COM frequency, though his eyes were not really focusing on what his teammate was doing. Already the young man could feel his stomach flipping haphazardly about. If what Raven was saying was true…if this girl was really some sort of bizarre otherworldly angel spawn…what did that exactly mean? What warning did she have and how bad was…Vic's voice called up from his belt ripping him from his thoughts.

"Test 1,2. You guys are set. Hail me when you get there. Don't worry about the creepy lil cherub chick…we'll keep on eye on her."

Tom cringed as Robert walked past grinning, "Let's roll then…sooner we get their sooner we come home and sleep. Hey Noel! Maybe we can find you a sad puppy to kick or a little kid to make cry while we're down there!"

* * *

_In Kabul, Afghanistan 6 students, and 2 professors were killed by a suicide bomber in a school._

_

* * *

  
_

_Adam Giruad in Conway, Arkansas ..16… was just shot in the head in a hunting accident._

_

* * *

_

_Finally succumbing to lung cancer in Forks, Washington Allison Resby's passed away listening to her son read to her…age 77._

_

* * *

_

_In London a man fell on the tracks in the Tube…even he no longer knew his own name and age._

_

* * *

_

_In New York City James McCathy had just been fired from CollinsCorp…leaving behind 3 children and a wife he hung himself in a hotel closet._

* * *

The time was 8:37 PM…

In the past hour 6,732 people had died…in the day 131,364 and counting

* * *

In Jump City, Florida the youngest child of Azrael laid still in sleep as the blacktrinian and mortician studied her chart…as the child of Trigon studied her. She was lying still, as her eyes moved frantically behind their lids, as her teeth ground together painfully behind her lips.

131,370

131,371

131,373

131,379

* * *

**Author Note**:…again it turned out longer than intended, which I suppose is better than shorter. It never seems this long when I think it out though.


	7. Chapter 7

"_**LET ME SAVE THEM**__!"_

_The scream that was ripping out of her throat was shrill and pathetic. The sob of a frightened and ill treated child. How many times had she done this now? How many worlds had she seen simply blink out of existence? This one hovering just beyond the void stood no chance, its heroes lying dead and cooling underneath a blackening sky. So many lives had been erased from the history of existence, and yet here she stood screaming…begging the creature before her for some vain and futile shred of hope. Dignity be damned, she sobbed out into the dark and let the tears stream down her face. She couldn't fail, not again. How many times did she have to break her promise to end this? How many times could she kill herself like this before she finally broke?_

_He was ignoring her. He had turned his back to her, hiding that which she already knew without seeing. Rage filled her, intertwining with the horror and grief, coiling together until she could no longer see where one began and the other ended. With a cry that no longer held any semblance of humanity she felt her body shift, felt her very being change. In a second she had flung herself against him, shrieking and growling in a garbled array of English and some language too ancient for a name, flaying her small useless fists against his back. Claws tried to shred, tightly balled up fingers tried so hard to bruise the flesh they struck. He did not so much as flinch in response to her rage, did not even turn his head. She wanted so badly to rake her nails down the back of neck, tear open the skin and make him react, make him __**feel **__something. How she just wanted to share even a fraction of the horror and anguish she felt, make him for once understand the nearly decimated heart beating erratically in her chest._

_Sweet, sharp pain ripped her out of her rage, blazing hotly in her shoulder until it actually burned cold. The man shape finally reeled around and his eyes -granite colored eyes- fell upon the blade pierced through the tender flesh just barely above where her heart was shuddering. Shock working to numb the tissue around the bloodied dark metal, her eyes gazed up and back, watching another blade lift into the black shadow, looking into the Dark's eyes and seeing the nothingness behind them. Pressure flooded her unscathed arm as a strong grip ripped her right off of her skewer, throwing her back into a much deeper darkness. But even as her guardian gave a defiant and furious roar, even as he charged the Dark himself…she kept staring into those black eyes._

_He didn't follow her out of the void._

_No one did._

_Until now._

_

* * *

_

In the med bay, Ryce's eyes snapped open.

* * *

Fish…fish…more fish…rotting garbage…'nother fish

"Hey B you gonna find anything sometime soon or should I come back in a decade?"

The geokinetic's only returned response was an indignant snort as the large green pig continued to root it's snout amongst the many crates and barrels littering the area. They had received little help in the way of dockworkers, most having gone home for the night and those that remained claiming they had never once seen a teenaged girl hiding out along the pier. They would have surely have chased her off if they had. It was with this assertion that they'd realize that even if Ryce had been seen, theses workers would not be telling them where. Their lies were written all over their faces. Eyes narrowed in suspicion Robin had said nothing before splitting the Titans up into teams, knowing full well that some, if not most, of the men they were questioning had probably glimpsed her at one point or another, loitering just along the periphery of their vision. They had let her be, as she had let them. But to admit this would be synonymous with an oral request for their own termination. They had allowed a young girl-surely a minor-trespass. Any foreman would have swung the ax down upon their heads without so much as a blink, all while images of lawsuits and litigation ran rampant and awful circles in his head.

This is just a wild goose chase the shifter thought, rooting his snout along the dusty wooden pier. A tinge of bitterness laced his mind when he imagined how easily this could have been avoided, had Noel not gotten his panties in such a twist over all of this. A small shudder made its way up his spine at the memory of the sound her head made on the dumpster, like a coconut splitting against a brick wall. Pushing the aggrieved mindset aside, Beast Boy leaned back on his haunches about to transform when he heard a voice humming out behind him. Pig and woman glanced back to the blond man strolling along in their wake as he continued singing, pausing every so often to lift up a piece of discarded cardboard and glance underneath.

"They don't play baseball  
they don't wear sweaters  
they're not good dancers  
They don't play drums!!

Fish heads fish heads  
Roly poly fish heads  
fish heads fish heads  
eat them up, yum!"

At the end of the chorus Gauntlet looked up, noticing their stares finally and said, "What?"

"...Are you done?" Terra asked.

"There's another verse left. If I don't sing it I throw myself out of equilibrium. I may be driven into insanity…do either of you want that on your consciences?"

"Yeah…we're okay with that I think," Beast Boy said from where he crouched, once again human. Cracking his neck, he stood as the blond man cocked his head to the side and asked, "Doesn't being a pig make both of you nervous? Ya know swine flu and everything."

"…now it does. Thanks Gauntlet."

"Happy to be of service! So when are we going home?" he said smiling at the two other Titans, ignoring the sarcasm lacing the green meta's words. They had been down here for at least an hour and found themselves split into teams that found just as much information as they had as an aggregate and that is to say, they found nothing. Before he could point this out Terra gave a sigh and brushed past him heading back towards the rendezvous point their masked leader had set earlier.

"This is kind of pointless…let's go back…if B can't get her scent we're just wasting our time anyway," she mumbled. Beast Boy nodded following after her without words. It was late; they were tired, cranky and probably ill suited for putting up with Robert's bantering for more than 10 to 15 minutes longer. Which was perhaps exactly why Gauntlet was being particularly charming this evening. How obnoxious and annoying he became after all, was directly correlated to how quickly they returned home. Looking quite forward to said return, he followed as Beast Boy had done, a grin growing on his face as the shifter glanced back over his shoulder at him, "We just have to hand that picture of Ryce over to the night security in this section, he said he'll ask the morning shift about her….like they're going to be of anymore help."

Nodding, Gauntlet removed a piece of paper from his back pocket, snapping his wrist with unnecessary flourish to make it unfold. Said flourish also made his grip on the paper lax and allowed a breeze to grasp it right out of his brandishing hand, the photo arcing gracefully through the air and into the night. One second it was in sight the next disappearing into shadowy nothing. All three blankly stared at Gauntlet's empty hand in the few seconds of silence that followed.

"I don't suppose we have an extra copy on us?" the artifact wielder said with a sheepish grin. The dead panned faces of his teammates seemed to almost rival Raven's in response. With a shrug and a step back he gave a laugh, "Heh…I'll just…ya know…go find it."

"Good idea," came the monotone answer as Beast Boy placed a calming hand on Tara's shoulder to prevent her from sending Robert off with a parade of stones pelting behind him

Following the scrap's path into the shadows, Gauntlet slipped out of sight into a ramshackle shed like construct hovering above the black waters of the bay. It was one of many lining the peer, lopsided and slowly falling in on itself. Taking slight advantage of his departure, the geokinetic leaned her forehead lightly against her boyfriend's shoulder, trying to ignore the ache of her feet, the heaviness of her eyelids, and the current urge to throttle the team's comic relief. She didn't have to voice these pangs to Gar for him to know them, a small smile crawling across his face as he wrapped a supportive arm about her rail thin shoulders. With a light kiss to the top of her head, he breathed in her scent, taking comfort in the fact that at least this day was almost drawing to a close. He was looking forward to his nice warm bed, and a small smirk formed on his face as he amended that thought include to perhaps include bed amongst other things.

A cry ripped out from the dark in front of them, interrupting whatever inappropriate track Gar's mind may have been heading towards. In an instant the calm and affectionate moment was shattered and without hesitation the couple darted into the unseen, minds filling with flashes of what horrors their teammate had encountered within. Eyes rimmed in a golden glow Terra lashed out a hand, a barrage of stones waiting for their target and a large green Tiger landed with a thud and growl beside her. Reflexively sweeping the room with his eyes, the green cat found it to be an abandoned boat port, rotting with desertion and age, rusty and useless traps and tools lining the four walls. Broken shelving, a single crate spilling it contents onto the grimy floor, an old moth and mildew eaten boat cover beside it, rumpled and half folded…these were the only things littered about the small port if you did not include the blond man staring at them in quizzical silence, holding one of his sneakers in his hand. Nothing else, not even a place for something to hide. Confusion plagued Beast Boy as he cautiously shifted back, before shrugging his shoulders questioningly at the half shoed Gauntlet who merely returned the gesture and said,

"What's up doc?"

"You screamed…"

"Of course I did…I stepped on a dead rat."

Face dropping, Gar slapped his hand over his eyes and drew it down his face trying to hold in the groan his girlfriend was currently sounding. The glow had fled from her eyes and the rocks that had been so eager to pelt themselves at some unseen assailant came thudding to the ground in a chorus of dull thumps and cracks. Robert merely shrugged and with a look of revulsion, went back to scrapping the bottom of his shoe with a spatula of yellow energy.

"You are such a little girl sometimes Gauntlet," Terra growled out, approaching him, mindful to side step the remainder of what the other blond had all over the bottom of his sneaker.

"Hey! How happy would you be stepping in squishy, expired rodent goo?" he countered indignantly waving his shoe at her in emphasis. Seeing where this was going, Beast Boy quickly broke in; interrupting whatever his less than patient girlfriend was going to respond with.

"Did you find the picture Gauntlet?"

Pulling his attention away from scrapping he looked up at Gar and nodded, nodding towards the broken crate, "Hm? Oh yea…over by all those tic-tacs."

With a nod in return, he shifted past Robert and towards the box, eyes adjusted enough to the shadows now to see the small slip of paper poking out from where it had wedged itself beneath the wooden box's sides. Tugging it out of its niche his fingers brushed a small plastic box off of it, the orange "mints" rattling within it noisily. Something clicked in the back of his head; some nagging feeling that swallowed him with such suddenness and strength that he could not shake it.

…_Orange_…

Realization began to dawn over him. The orange scent, the rough canvas cover in the corner, dust covered and reeking of the tide waters it had probably been pulled from. Stepping around the crate his eyes fell upon a new and final part to the puzzle he had been piecing together in his head. A dog-eared and yellowing photo, its glossy front stained with a smear of dark purple-red. Under that long dried and marring stain, a young brunette was smiling beneath a set of Mickey Mouse ears from atop her father's shoulders, easy to recognize even at such a young age. Plucking it up from the floor, a young Rebecca and Dave Stathis joined the picture of Ryce in his hands.

"Hey guys…look what I found over here."

Struggling to tug on his shoe Gauntlet hopped over beside Terra. It took a few moments for twin looks of recognition to light across their faces; Robert's slowly growing into a victories grin.

"Deus ex Machina f.t.w plz!"

"Don't talk like one of those creepy cats from last Christmas please," Tara mumbled, taking the older of the two snapshots to get a closer look. As soon as her fingers graced the yellowing edges, a shadow rolled across what little light a dock lamp from outside had afforded them. Seeing her boyfriend and teammate's eyes narrow on the doorway behind her she turned to find a large figure blocking the way they had come in. Feeling Beast Boy tensing up more than seeing it, the slightest of yellow glimmered back into her eyes. For a moment the looming shadow just stood, his features blocked from view. Then with a rigid step he came away from the door, his face lit in a beam of pale moonlight drifting down from the hole-plagued ceiling.

The man was older than them by at least a decade, perhaps even more. With a slight shift of his strong square jaw, his stony, Slavic features set into what perhaps he thought were a neutral expression. To Terra however, he looked like the kind of person that no matter how he arranged his face, his expression remained laced with a hint of anger. He had a thick, muscular build, broad chested and shouldered, standing at least 6'10" perhaps maybe even a flat 7'0"…in short the man was huge. Gunmetal grey hair- the color adding to the difficulty in placing his age- was cut short against his head in a typical military fashion, matching the uniform in which he was garbed. At first glance Beast Boy would have assumed him a member of the Marine Corp, decked out in his formal uniform. The colors seemed slightly wrong though, the typical dark blues of the coat and pants replaced with a velvety colored black, lined with darken gold as opposed to red, not a trace of white outside his gloves. The golden buttons were replaced by gem like stones of a deep wine color. The typical white hat that would have adorned his head was held in one massive gloved hand, also midnight black and lined with gold and that odd purple-red. At his side, where an officer would typical have a NCO sword during ceremonial times, what appeared to be no more than an ornamental handle was clipped. Silently he stared down at the small group in his shadow as if expecting or waiting for their response to his sudden appearance.

Expected or not, Terra gave him one, her voice lit with sarcastic annoyance "Can we help you or something?"

Thick dark brows, starkly contrasted against his pale skin, raised slowly upward, his demeanor now simultaneously subtly angry and unimpressed. Unseen to the Marine, Beast Boy reached out and rested a warning hand against Terra's back, all while holding in the aggravated look that reflex was demanding he shoot towards her. Always the attitude he mentally muttered, stepping forward in-between the new comer and Terra. Standing so much closer, he had to crane his neck upwards to look at the man's face. The Marine's attention had not fallen on him though he noticed, instead his gaze seemingly locked on Rob, positioned behind them both. Gauntlet seemed if anything completely unaffected by the stare, grinning up at enormous man,

"Dang…thinking you put a lil too much 'oo' in your 'rah' buddy…"

This time Beast Boy did nothing to conceal the discouraging look ripping across his face. He was not quite sure what exactly it was with either of his companions but both seemed to be content with taunting the rather surly looking human brick wall. Said brick wall reacted no more to Gauntlet's commentary than he had to Terra's. A slight narrowing of his eyes and no more. Sensing the tension only growing, the shifter cleared his throat and gained the Marine's all too disinterested stare. Holding out the creased photo he asked, "Sir? Just wondering if you have seen this person hanging around the pier at all."

Seconds of silence passed by, becoming heavier and thicker with every tick the clock. The Marine made no move towards or away from them. He did not even so much as glance at the hand holding that piece of paper out to him, just continued with his indifferent and mildly intimidating stare. Slowly, Gar pulled his hand back, allowing it to fall swinging to his side. The man's eyes bothered him, cold, dead soldier's eyes. Unreadable eyes. If this man's goal had been to completely unnerve him, he'd certainly succeeded.

"Er…right. Well then…we'll uh….just be going," Beast Boy mumbled handing the snapshot back over his shoulder into Gauntlet's waiting hands. Without thinking, Gar grabbed Tara firmly by her one arm and all but dragged her out of the boathouse and back into the night air. Meanwhile Gauntlet flicked the photo once, before moving to fall in step behind them. About to place the paper back into his pocket he never noticed the grey eyes tracing it.

Outside Terra glanced in questioning annoyance at her boyfriend's sudden bought of agitation. Opening her mouth to voice said concern, she finally took noticed that they seemed to be one member short. An annoyed sigh fell past her lips as she yanked her arm back to her side and out of Gar's grasp, ignoring him as he turned, mouth open to most likely protest. With a half turn she called back

"Gauntlet let's g-"

The words died on her lips. Several yards away standing in the open doorway of the boat port, the Marine had emerged into the night. In one hand studying the photo they had only minutes ago had gone to retrieve. His face seemed to finally come to life upon looking at it, a set determination leaking out over the indifference. It was not this change in features that had killed her voice however. It was the other hand than was not being used to lift the photo into the dull dock light. Instead this one was grappled none too gently around her teammate's face and head, fingers disappearing into the wild blond spikes. Single handedly The Marine was lifting him into the air so that his feet dangled uselessly nearly a foot from the ground, as if Gauntlet weighed no more than a light sack of groceries. Muffled and seemingly unhurt Robert managed to garble back,

"So yea…I think he knows Ryce."

* * *

"Slow down…you will make yourself sick."

Brow furrowing in frustration the blacktrinian pulled the glass away from her mouth, his command if anything making her gulp the water down faster. The girl had nearly given him a heart attack moments ago, jolting up from the cot gasping and heaving for air as if she was drowning. A wet hacking cough ripped up and out of her lungs, he cringed at the raw sound. The girl's respiratory system was…well…he couldn't think of a nicer term than crap at the moment. Listening to that dreadful cracking sound rising up from her chest, Nigel made to grab for her inhaler again only for her to shake her head. A few seconds of unsteady breathing passed before she finally looked up, squinting in his general direction.

"I'm okay now…thanks though…" she whispered out, her voice cracking even still.

Before she could so much as blink a pen light appeared in his hands as if from thin air. Ryce made no move of argument, cooperating as the beam shone into one eye and then the other. As he had suspected, the pupil in the cerulean eyes contracted properly easing any worries of the remaining affects of a concussion. The cobalt eye simply remained unaffected, though he had expected nothing else. Nigel nodded and with one hand placed the glass of water on the counter while the other pocketed the penlight before passing Ryce her spectacles. Gently, she retrieved them from his grasp and placed them on the bridge of her nose, looking rather relieved that her sight had been returned. Focusing her gaze on the doctor she granted him a mildly apologetic and embarrassed smile as he spoke, "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone just reenacted "The Final Night" inside my skull…other than that? Peachy," she said absently touching the thick white bandage around her head with one equally gauze wrapped hand. A small wince crossed her face when her fingers grazed the small patch of red staining the left side of her head. Pulling her hand away, she gazed her fingers as if checking for fresh blood, before looking up and over Nigel's shoulder the to dusky woman, visible just over his shoulder. Guilt swept instantly across her face as she dropped her gaze away.

"Is think I owe your boyfriend an apology."

"Whitehead bashes your dome off a dumpster…and you want to apologize…you are one strange kid," Vic muttered from the doorway he had just entered through. Starting slightly, Ryce looked over towards him, before casting her eyes down once more and fidgeting her hands in her lap. Even halfway across the room Vic could see the tips of her ears turning bright red in embarrassment. Not meeting any of their stares she stuttered out sheepishly, "I said something kinda low… and I-"

"You are neither the first, nor will you be the last to call Noel's a 'Momma's Boy.' Take the chunk scalp you left in the alley and call it even, Ryce," Nigel interrupted, checking her head bandage with delicate fingers. He made appoint to ignore the snort of laughter emerging from Victor that he was ill concealing as a coughing fit. Out of the corner of one eye he saw Raven approaching, and before her jaw had dropped in the slightest held up a hand asking her to wait. No doubt they had to ask the girl enough questions to fill a small novel, but they could wait until he was sure her brain was not going to spill out the side of her head. After a few minutes of poking and prodding at the white gauze surrounding her head, Nigel nodded and stepped away from the cot. Taking this as a cue Ryce swung her legs around to the floor and slid from the soft bed's surface.

Satisfied with her condition, Nigel started back towards the door, sweeping aside to allow Raven access to her. Eyes focused on Victor he spoke, "Hail the others on the COM…tell them she's awake." The tall man in front of him had just the beginnings of a nod when his eyes widened slightly in surprise and he took a quickstep forward, arm reaching out. Nigel had barely noticed and probably would not gave if not for Sophie's gasp of surprise. It had given him just enough time to turn and watch her just barely manage to reach out and grab Ryce before she toppled to the ground, legs unsupportive, eyes slightly glazed and rolling. With the mortician steadying her, the girl managed to shake her head to clear it, a rattling growl making her wince inwards. It didn't take long for Nigel to piece together the sudden bout of dizziness. Frowning at her, he aided his girlfriend in leading/forcing the teen back onto the cot, despite Ryce's assertions of being "just fine."

"When was the last time you ate something Ryce?"

No answer. The teen gained a thoughtful look on her face, absently chewing her lower lip, but no answer.

"Ryce I said…"

"I heard you…I'm thinking," she muttered with a tinge of irritability creeping into her tone. From behind the doctor Raven gave a look of incredulous surprise, "You have to THINK about when you ate last?"

"Yes. It was…Tuesday…ish. I think…maybe…I don't know. Does a box of tic-tacs count?" Ryce said shrugging her shoulders in resignation, ignoring the worried looks some of the Titans were casting in her direction. Honestly, it was that big of a deal she thought. Instead, she appeared to have become particularly fascinated by the thin blanket she had moments ago been dozing under. Her strange blue eyes darted upwards to glance at a clock ticking away on the med bay wall, almost pleased to find that her unconsciousness had afford her nearly 3 good hours of sleep. Perhaps she would have to insult more metas in the future. The pleasure of sleep fled into a frown when she thought about that consideration, well that was pleasantly dark.

Lost in her ponderings she barely noticed Nigel's rather displeased stare. At the very least the better part of a week without food, wandering the streets he thought to himself. All to appease some bizarre set of rules? He had to wonder how Azrael treated the offspring he didn't favor, if this was what was expected of Ryce. It was really a wonder that the girl had been capable of running from them at all. Waving both Victor over, he sighed, "Alright…let's go. We'll get her something to eat and go notify the team that she's up and-"

"X is here," the blond girl interrupted, gaining the room's attention. Her voice carried the tone of someone discussing the weather or something of equal disinterest. Raven who had been quietly considering her, shot a dark look at her, waiting expectantly for her to continue. Ryce, however, had taken to tracing intricate little random patterns with her fingers across the stark white sheet of her bed, avoiding their eyes for a few moments before she spoke, "That's what woke me up. He'll find me…my guess is within the hour or so…then we can all sit down and have a nice long storytime."

"Who is X Ryce?" Raven intoned.

"My guardian…" she said staring at Raven as if she was explaining that two plus two did not in fact equal 3 to a rather dim 3 year old. It was meant to be insulting, but she dark woman saw past the ruse. Her words, even the tone of her voice, did not match the flicker of expression across her features. A defensive uneasy look had crept across the half angel's face, something that Raven had not missed. It did not susprise Raven to find that the skittish creature from the alley was hidden in a cautious glance to the side, away from her own purple gaze. Quickly she'd come to realize that this meant Ryce was hiding something…usually something of importance. Once more Raven pushed the envelope just a bit further, "Guardian? Why do you need a gua-"

"'Cause I messed up and they don't think I-" she started to snap in an acidic tone of voice, before stopping. A glare of distrust was shot Raven's way, as the girl caught herself finishing, "…I'm _**not **_going to talk about it."

Ryce's clipped tone made it clear that whatever the reason for the guardian it was none of Raven's business and that she considered this conversation over. If this wasn't clear enough she turned her focus away from Raven almost giving the sorceress her back, and instead looked to Nigel. Her voice had change away from that icy clip, continuing as if Raven had never even spoke, "Call them up…bring 'em back. It's a long story…and not a particularly fun one to hear or tell. I don't think I can go through this more than once tonight."

* * *

"Victor!"

"I can't help it if your food sucks. She hasn't eaten in a week."

"Exactly my point," the doctor mumbled glaring at the girl sitting at the counter all but wolfing a burger and fries leftover from the night before. Her lack of nutrition taking a quick priority over placing the call had gone from a weak soup to a mini argument. Needless to say when presented with Vic's optioned offer of processed meats and deep fried starch, Nigel's medical insistence and opinion had been taken an immediate back seat. Raven and Sophie simply looked on the food shoveling teen with mild disgust and amusement respectively as she abandoned her food in favor of guzzling down the glass of milk beside it. Vic watched on looking quite pleased with himself. Throwing his hands up in the air the doctor walked over towards the computer calling over his shoulder, "When she throws up you can clean it up Vic, that's all I'm saying."

* * *

Several miles away from the tower, Robin stood waiting patiently for the return of the other half of his team. Starfire, Savior, and himself had arrived at the rendezvous point nearly 10 minutes prior, no more knowledgeable than they had been at the start of this trip to the Marina. Once again, it appeared as if the girl had simply popped right out of thin air like vapor. It just took Robin half the amount of time that it had taken Team B to figure out that any more pawing through the dark night would just be a waste of resources and energy.

He had just been ready to call Terra, Gauntlet, and Beast Boy in to inform them of this realization. He had already gone so far as to flip the bright yellow COM open in his palm, when the screen crackled into life. From the screen Nigel's face blinked up at him. There was a moment of surprise and then his voice also drifted up from the speakers, "Robin?"

"Scalpel? Is everything alri-"

The blacktrinian disappeared from the frame, the background blurring slightly as he turned the device around in his claws. After a few shaky seconds, the screen focused once more, this time on the undersized reason they were down here at all. A shamefaced smile formed on Ryce's face from her seat at their kitchen table, weakly raising her left hand in a wave with a barely mumbled out, "Yo."

"She woke up about 10 minutes ago…apparently her guardian X is 'here.' Though she isn't being very clear on where 'here' is," Nigel's voice came from somewhere off-screen sounding slightly exasperated. In the background Ryce mumbling something incoherently under her breathe. Tim nodded, "So does that mean-"

The blond cut in before Tim could finish his thought, "I'll tell you whatever you wanna know within reason Robin. Just mosey on back here if you please…not exactly something I want to do over the phone…COM…thing…whatever."

Once again, it seemed that things were falling into place. In fact, Tim found he didn't even have to voice a request for Star or Savior to radio the other team in. With a glance up, he could see them turning the corner on the pier towards them. Beast Boy raised his hand in greeting, shouting something that was drowned out by the wind. If he could hazard a guess, Tim would bet it was probably an explanation for the group's sudden 4th, a large man in formal military dress, walking stiffly behind them. There was a moment of dread as he hoped that the three (I.E. Gauntlet) had not managed to cause any problems that required a military escort back. From the COM he could hear Nigel calling his name questioningly mixed in with Ryce's voice talking indistinctly behind him.

"Robin?"

"The other team just returned Scalpel. We got company though so we just have to tie up some stuff and we'll be on our way home."

"Good good. Ryce says to be on the look out for a large man with grey hair who appears…he looks uptight she says."

("No, I said it looks like he's got a giant pole up his ass")

"(I'm not saying that over the COM Ryce.) That's X and he will probably…"

"…be right behind you guys…" Ryce cut in, her voice piqued with surprise, peering over Nigel's arm, halfway off the screen. Glancing over his shoulder, Tim saw the man that had arrived alongside Beast Boy, Terra, and an unusually distrustful looking Gauntlet who was rubbing the side of his jaw tenderly. Tim found him to be even larger in appearance up close. The Marine seemed to have no notice of the communicator in his hand or the voice coming out of it, his attention focused with a strange intensity on something to his right. On screen Ryce's face seemed to lose some of its tension, a small grin turning up the corners of her mouth as she caught sight of the behemoth in the uniform standing at attention behind them. There was no mistaking the anxious, relieved glint to her eyes. Nor was their any mistaking the absolute horror that in an instant had bled into them as her mouth twisted open to scream out.

"NO!"

The COM tumbled from Tim's fingers, giving the Tower dwelling Titans a glimpse of the Marine's face twisted in inhuman fury, a massive fist tightening around Savior's throat.

* * *

"What the fuh…Raven No!"

None of the remaining three gathered had enough time to prevent the black blast from slamming the petite blond off of her very feet and into the wall behind her. With the wind knocked roughly out of her lungs, Ryce could not so much as lift a finger before the energy shrank, Raven now standing in it's place, one black glowing hand holding her against the wall by her neck. Both Vic and Nigel called out in surprise as Sophie was struck by the bizarre juxtaposition from what the COM had showed them seconds ago before cutting to static. The neutral calm had fled from of the empath's face. Replacing it was a black venomous fury, and it didn't take much imagination to realize how close another set of eyes was to appearing across her forehead. Struggling with a small gasp, Ryce tried to speak, only for Raven to tighten her grip just enough to cut her off .

"You think about what you are going say Deathling. You think about it good and hard."

"I swear…I don't…I don't know why..." Ryce gasped.

"Liar!" the demoness hissed, her hand tightening just a fraction more. From somewhere behind her, Raven could hear Victor barking out a command to let the girl go. She could hear the clacking of Nigel's feet approaching to separate the two. But it was Ryce who raised a placating hand, stopping him, ceasing the clatter of claws against the floor, for some reason signaling him to allow her to handle herself. Slowly the mismatched eyes shifted away from the spot over Raven's shoulder to lock with her own, the seemingly genuine shock and confusion within them nearly throwing Raven off.

"Raven…please. I'm as lost as you are here."

"Either you start telling to truth or I will-"

"You'll what Demon? Strangle me? You'll end up just as dead as lover boy is gonna be!" she snarled out, "Now…Let. Me. Go."

The pleading was gone from her voice. This was no longer beseeching, no longer even asking. It had become a cold and deadly warning. For a moment Raven hesitated, considering the idea of simply letting her rage loose on the girl and see what happened. But in the moment of hesitation, Ryce lashed out and pushed her away from her neck roughly, with a snarl. Seconds of tense silence, as thick as molasses, passed as the demon and angel demi-humans stared one another down. It was Ryce who broke eye contact first, panning her gaze upon the others in the room; the feral gleam lessening as she did.

"We have to get down there…he'll kill them all…maybe I can calm him down."

"Ryce why would he even attack in the first place?" Sophie reasoned as a look of despairing befuddlement crossed the smaller girl's face. Ryce shook her head in response.

"I don't understand! I've never seen him act like that…not for no damn reason at least."

"There has to be a reason," Raven growled dangerously, stepping once more towards the strange girl. Ryce flinched back a step along the wall. The previous anger and backbone seemed all but forgotten by Ryce, who stared imploringly at the violet haired woman, as if she had not just thrown her into a wall and threatened her life. All Ryce could seem to do was shake her head stupidly in denial.

"I know…I just…"

"Then what is it!?"

"I don't know!"

"Yes you do!"

"I-I-I…"

"THINK!"

"God damn it I'm trying! I don't fucking know!" Ryce cried out, slumping down into the chair where minutes ago she had sat enjoying her first meal in days. Nothing made sense. Nothing fit. Her head thudded painfully, keeping time with her frantic pulse. A single, gauzed wrapped hand propped up her head, pushing back her hair, the gauze itching against her flesh. A swift and hateful glared was shot at the strips bandaging her hands so unnecessarily, and with a small grow, she ripped a piece of it off with one of her sharp teeth. She was preparing to unravel it, muttering curses,

"God damn, bothersome, bloody ban…dag…es," she began snapping, slowly trailing off with a look of dawning realization. Vaguely she could hear Vic bustling around for the keys to the T-Car, orders beings shouted, Raven claiming the keys were unnecessary. All of it was more or less lost upon her though. Numbly, she raised her hand to eye level, gazing as the red stained gauze unraveling lazily from around her palm, revealing smooth pale skin beneath. She breathed out quietly as she finally understood.

"Oh shit."

* * *

Noel saw him coming. From the moment Robin had begun speaking with the now conscious Ryce on the COM, he had seen the Marine walking their way with his teammates. Upon his immediate arrival he both saw and felt the stare he had been fixed with, caution slowly creeping into his own mind, under the massive man's soul concentration. No one else earned the enormous soldier's stare, intently boring down, unblinking. Just him. He knew long before the man raised his hand, the ornamental handle vibrating and glowing at his side suddenly tugging up from his belt by some unseen force, that something was about to happen. Something more likely than not violent in nature. He had expected an attack.

What he had not expected was the speed.

A vice was suddenly around his neck, feet dangling above the ground. With a jerk of his arms, a mass of shimmer strands burst from both palms forming miniscule blades of razor wire, slashing down at the behemoth's face as one of those dinner plate sized hands closed tightly around his windpipe. In an instant his airway was sealed shut. Before shimmer contact was made, the arm attached to the strangling hand swung him roughly around, flinging him several yards downs the pier as if he weighed no more than a rag doll. Twisting himself expertly, the white haired meta landed on his feet, crouched down unto one knee, a hand steadying his balance beneath him as he slid across the wooden planks.

The team's shock died quickly enough and in a moment, an array of flying blades, blasts, rocks and whathaveyou were falling upon the Marine in a barraging assault. Once again, as if in direct opposition of his size, he leaped high into the air, out of the center of the dangerous circle of attack. Booted feet crashed into the wood of the pier as he landed mere feet from where he had tossed Savior, splinters of wood splaying into the air under the force of his weight, Noel could feel them on his face. The black garbed Titan attempted to grasp out at a swinging foot, bracing himself. He would use the man's own momentum and allow him to flip himself. Quickly enough he found it like flipping a speeding semi and was thrown through the air once more.

"Batter up Jarhead!"

From nowhere, a mallet of bright golden energy swung out from behind the Marine. The bulk of it slammed into his temple, knocking his head to the side of his shoulder. Without so much as a stumble, the Marine paused, head twisted from the impact. With a crack of his neck, he stretched before slowly turning and glaring at the blond man standing behind him. One of those thick dark eyebrows rose up questioningly, before he lifted his hand from his side. The handle did not vibrate, it did not float. With a vicious yank, like a ball bearing to a magnet, it flew up into the extended hand off of his belt, which enclosed around it in a massive fist. The air began to crackle and spark around his hand and the handle. A heavy metallic scent of ozone was carried to Gauntlet on the wind, strong enough to make his eyes begin to tear. The scent was soon joined by a sound of groaning, like metal under some great strain. Suddenly, the air around the handle darkened and blurred, twisting into a strange shadow before taking solid shape above and below his fist. Where there was once nothing more than air, a massive metal war hammer at the very least 3 yards in length had been birthed, carved with ancient runes and symbols. Held at even and angle it towered over the Marine who held it with as much strain one would associate holding a baseball bat. The hammer swung, carving a smooth energy-crackling arc through the air as the artifact using youth flipped backwards, away from impact. Sticking his landing, Gauntlet flashed a cheeky grin as he glanced from his much smaller hammer to the Marine's.

"Are we over compensating for something?"

The Marine gave neither reaction nor indication that he had even heard him speak. Twisting the weapon back towards him, he lifted it with a swing into the air, pointing it towards the sky. Purple and white energy sparked and crackled around the great hammer as a low hum began to vibrate through the air all around. For a moment, the blond continued to simply smile, the slightest trace of overconfidence on his face. Then the air didn't simply smell electric, but felt it as well, buzzing and vibrating with pulsing power in tune with the hammer. The smile fell from Gauntlet's face quickly enough, as a wind joined into the sudden electric storm, powerful enough to toss his metal encased arm forward. He made to pull the limb back and brace himself against the sudden gale, before realizing that there was no force pushing against him, natural or otherwise. A moment's confusion for his body to register that his arm was not being pushed but pulled, before the steady tug ripped him right off his feet and through the air. The metal Gauntlet clattered with a clanging ring against the hammer, leaving Robert dangling some feet off the ground once more. The Marine lifted the hammer slightly, bringing the Titan turned over grown refrigerator magnet to eye level, fixing him with an icy stare. For a few tense seconds, Gauntlet really did consider keeping his mouth shut…

"…Hello Brother, have you heard the word of-URK!"

Before Robert could finish, the Marine bared his teeth in a snarl and two handedly swung himself and the hammer around like a shot put. On the last rotation the humming vibrations of the hammer ceased, flinging Gauntlet straight towards the green bear that seconds ago had been charging in the their direction. The force of the launch and resulting impact sent both Titans flying into a disoriented and in one case rather dizzy heap.

Seemingly pleased with this, the Marine turned back around, before quickly ducking his head to avoid the metal encased boot soaring towards his face. The masked hero landed agilely behind him with barely a sound, before whipping around again, flinging a blinking and beeping blade back in the other direction. The hammer came up, batting the sharp metal out over the water, where is exploded in a flume of red and orange flame. Robin seized the chance and flew at him once more, sliding beneath the arc of the hammer, aiming what should have been a crippling kick to the back of his knee. Pain shot up through the Titans leader's shin, feeling as though he had kicked a metal pole as opposed to a limb. The Marine flinched, ever so slightly, in response as Robin rolled unto his shoulder and sprang back up to his feet behind him. A hand flew down to his belt ready to launch another detonating blade when the Marine pivoted swiftly towards him. There was no hum of warning this time, simply a gunshot crack before a bolt of purple shot out of the hammer's head. With no time to bring his arms up in defense the bolt went smashing into his chest, thereby smashing him through the side of the building several feet behind him.

Just as his granite grey eyes focused on the hole Robin's body had created, watching a piece of siding clatter noisily to the ground, a flash of white-hot green burned into his ribs, while two more seared the pier on either side of him. A blaze of purple and glowing emerald shot past him as he dodged the Tamaranean's fury-fueled, aerial assault, only for a large boulder to crash into the back of his head, shattering like chalk against it.

"Hey Sparky! You're grounded!" Terra snarled out from above shielding herself from an electrified blast with the rock on which she was hovering. A flash of gold and a hand of wet sea stone ripped up through the boardwalk's planks, swiping at the Marine. Twisting away, he ripped from its grasp, only for another star bolt to smash into the small of his back, driving him back towards the claw and leaving a hissing and burnt hole in his uniform. Swooping past once more, Starfire caught a glimpse of silver plating beneath the off colored military guise. Two more claws of rock and tide mud crashed through the pier surrounding the Marine now, shattering and reforming with a swing of his hammer. Above, Terra let out a mocking caw of laughter, focusing on reforming whatever damages his weapon caused. Then, as his shoulder arched into a final swing, the claw behind him lashed out, seizing him around the legs. As his hammer shattered the third, the second fastened around his middle. Now was her chance. In the process of reforming the third, Terra watched the Marine twist his torso around the best he could to face her, holding the hammer in one hand and flicking the other towards her. She steadied herself, waiting for some sort of impact…some sort of reason. When nothing happened, the geokinetic simply raised an eyebrow and smirked, the final claw grappling around his upper body, holding him in place. All at once the raging bull of a man seemed to calm, an eerie quiet over taking his violent swinging and thrashing as he silently stared up at the blond titan hovering over his head. It was then she heard the beeping and its increasing volume and frequency. A quick glance down was all she needed to see one of Robin's birdarangs, its blade embedded into the rock on which she stood blinking rapidly up at her.

"…anyone got a white flag?"

The projectile detonated, shattering the rock and sending Terra airborne. Heat and pressure blasted her face, rattling her, destroying her focus as it had her perch. The rock and mud hands restraining the marine crumbled into nothing as she fell. Behind her shell-shocked confusion, part of Terra braced herself for impact, having only enough wits about her to know it was coming, but hardly enough to do anything about it. Only, luckily for her, the descent had been suddenly and thankfully cut short by Starfire's arms.

"Are you unharmed Ter-Ah!" the orange toned woman's question was cut short when another bolt of purple ripped through the air behind her, crashing into her back. Through her flesh the pulse transferred to Terra and the force of it was enough to send both rocketing back to the ground into a tangled and momentarily paralyzed pile.

The Marine lowered the hammer from his line of sight, frowning slightly at the wreckage and debris littering the pier around him. Slowly, he bent forward, one dirt marred glove reaching out to brush a bit of dust and a smattering of splinters off the black hat the scrawny blond had knocked from his head. The other hand placed the hammer gently on the ground. With the same level of urgency one would associate with someone talking a Sunday stroll, the Marine straightened and placed the hat back on his head. Fingers that looked strong enough to crush stone worked to adjust the cap so meticulously that one might have even deemed him fussy. When it was finally to his liking, he just stood still, hands at his side, stoic gaze panning around him once more.

Without even a flicker of forewarning, he pivoted on his heels and swept to the right in a dodge. The same hand that had been so delicately fixing his hat lashed out and grappled the strands of white that had sliced through the air he had once occupied. With a twist of his wrist the white fibers wrapped around his arm and fist before he pulled back, jerking its wielder towards him. Dropping one knee, he swung around, bringing his other elbow up and out just in time for Savior's face to smash into it. As soon as his elbow impacted the meta's face, the knee he had dropped rocketed up into the underside of Noel's jaw sending his vision into a haze of grey, alit with sparks of colored light that seemed to flicker in the air before him.

Savior dropped to the ground limply, his mind hazily wondering if he had just been elbowed in the face or hit across it with a two ton bat. Sounds came to him in a muffled drone (_"Savior!"_), shouts and calls, unrecognizable…indiscernible, _("What the he-Raven grab her!") _muted as if his ears were stuffed with cotton. Above him, a black blur was pulsing and shifting, the purple black sky suddenly hindered by a fog of grey. His vision came into focus slowly, just as the hammer fell, cleaving through the air towards his head. Reflexively, his rapidly blackening eyes flinched shut and hands flew up waiting for blow.

Seconds flew by…nothing came…even the muffled sounds had been cut short in tense silence. Cautiously, he opened his one eye and then the other wondering what had stopped the collision…or perhaps if something hadn't. Inches from his crumpled body, leaning backwards in an arch half over it, Ryce kneeled. Centimeters from her drawn and frozen face, the head of the hammer hovered only a breath away, one of her delicate hands fastened uselessly around the long handle behind it as if she had the strength to halt its descent. Jaw set and eyes flaring with anger, she stared beyond the hammer that had so nearly obliterated both of their heads at the Marine, who stared back with stunned surprise. Slowly, the fire never leaking out of that gaze –not anger, Noel realized, but unmitigated fury- she stood, limbs trembling from both her nerves and rage. Her stare, remained locked with the Marine –the ever elusive X – who with uncanny gentleness surprised Noel by helping her to her feet. Gone was the rampant soldier, who moments ago had been mere seconds from smashing Noel's head in like a pumpkin on Halloween. The same hands that had swung an impossibly massive war hammer, supporting her all too thin arms, holding up a girl, who cold not have weighted over 95 pounds, as if she would break if mishandled.

When she spoke, her voice was a strained mix of rage and relief, hitching and hiccupping oddly, "X…you…you stupid…sonuva-"

….was all she managed before vomiting all over his shoes.

"…well that's lovely."

"I am not usually one to say I told you so Cybor-"

"Then don't."

"Savior ya might want to move."

Noel took the last warning to heart and, ignoring the rattling pain wreaking havoc in his head, inched away from the coughing teen bent over only a foot or so away from him. All but ignoring the commentary, Ryce shuddered a bit, eyes cracking open miserably as she mumbled, "Milk was a bad choice." A trembling hand reached up to tuck a lock of long hair away from her face when X's gloved fingers did it for her. All the shaking fled from her hand as she lashed out smacking the much **much** larger being's grasp away. As if suddenly forgetting how the world was spinning around her, she snarled at Marine, "Ass!"

X straightened along with her, a look of high offense crossing his face as he did so. Ryce seemed to ignore this too as she took a swing at his torso cringing when her hand collided with his chest. The give of flesh was absent, in its place, hard metal. Luckily enough, her punch had been thrown with a still bandaged hand; else that hand would probably be broken. Unluckily however, the padded pain from punching the armor beneath his uniform did not seem enough to snap her out of her fit.

"Ass!" she screamed out again before descending into a strange garbling language of snarls punctuated with both her fists and an occasional outburst of English. Mostly cursing. Raven instantly recognized the strange language from her previous encounters with the girl. Then, it had been calm and even, spoken levelly even in her panic, nevertheless causing the half demon's very teeth to ache in its offensively inhuman strangeness. Now, that Ryce was all but shrieking in it? The gathering team all bore traces of pain, unease, and/or annoyance at the sound of it. Nigel's hand had crept up to one of his ears, trying to inconspicuously cover it, the corner of one eye twitching and cringing slightly. With a sigh, Raven could only watch as the girl brandished both her hands in the titanic Marine's face, emphasizing first the bandaged one and then the clear and smooth palm of its twin. All the while X simply stood glaring down in annoyance raising a hand every so often as if silence her, only to be cut off by her snarled out words and violent gestures towards the still prostrate Meta behind her.

Finally, after a few more seconds of being screamed at, the Marine rolled his eyes and grappled the small girl around the cuff of her neck. Ignoring her eep of surprise he lifted her right off the ground and away from striking him, as a mother dog would lift a puppy. Silence fell upon them and Ryce became still and stiff, seemingly calm…but from Noel's vantage point he could see the blonde's expression darken, if at all possible, even further. Her voice hissed out in a cold and quiet promise.

"I swear upon the city of R'lyeh, Xavius, I will throw up on you again…Put. Me. Down."

Either placated by the fact she had stopped striking him or unnerved that she would make due on her words, X released his hold. His earlier gentleness gone, perhaps at seeing her unharmed, he let her fall unaided to the ground. Seemingly used to such treatment from him, Ryce managed to avoided falling flat on her backside, though barely.

Beyond this, Savior neither saw nor cared what transpired between them, as he sat up and attempted to climb back to his feet. Every move made his head sing in a chorus of screeching. It felt as if shards of glass were being stabbed none too gently into his eye sockets. He got as far as to kneeling down on one knee before the graying haze threatened his vision once more. Briefly, he was aware of someone approaching, even the soft slide of Raven's steps recognizable after so long together. When a hand came into his slowly clearing sight, he took it without thinking, pulling himself with her help to his feet. Finally he looked up to see the owner of the hand and his face fell into a glare as he jerked his arm away. Ryce flinched slightly, tucking the hand she had used to help him to his feet behind her back sheepishly. Before he could speak Raven had stepped between and, as one hand fell calmingly on his shoulder, the other hovered, glowing, a few inches from his face.

Slowly, the pain abated and the black bruising beneath both of his eyes faded, the crooked twist of his nose snapped audibly back into place. Within seconds, his vision cleared and airways released. He cast his girlfriend a swift look of gratitude before turning back to glare at the people behind her. While Ryce seemed the shrink with guilt under his gaze, the Marine cast him a withering look of boredom, before giving a lazy turn and walking away. Ryce did not even appear to notice this as she whispered,

"I…am so _**so**_ sorry Savior. I-"

Noel interrupted her apology by launching via shimmer a chunk of the broken pier at the back of her guardian's head. X reeled around again, murder in his eyes, war hammer flying from the ground into his grasp. Raven made a grab for Noel's shoulder as he advanced, while Ryce made the same grapple to the Marine, both demanding that they calm down. They, however, seemed intent on ignoring the women and took another menacing step forward.

"AYE! I said knock it off!" Ryce roared stepping in-between the two, her left eye flashing. Both men were knocked back into a stumble by whatever her unexplained powers seemed to be. The apologetic guilt gone from her face, she snapped a hand out towards an unmarred bench some 10 yards away glaring at X.

"We're not going to have a pissing contest! You! Go sit!"

For a moment the formidable man just stared challengingly at the girl, before he turned with a stiff about-face and walked rigidly away, making a point to not sit at the bench she had pointed to. Taking what she could get, Ryce turned back to the still irate Titan, ignoring the crowd of his team gathering around him. Her shame and remorse did not return, but her face softened from the livid stare she had fixed X with.

"I'm sorry. It's over…drop it and consider us even. My head…your face. He was protecting me."

"Pardon me if I don't buy that…you weren't even here." Noel snapped.

"You think that matters? Look at you! You reek Savior! And being decked out like _**Christmas**_? What was he supposed to think? You're lucky Raven got me here before he turned you into a human pez dispenser!"

Around him, the group began looking at him in confusion. Gauntlet even went so far as to actually sniff him to see what she meant. Jerking his arm away, nearly casting his own elbow into his teammate's face, he gave her an incredulous look. Christmas? He reeked? He had no idea what in the hell she was babbling about and was about to ask. She cut him off, pointing to Nigel behind him.

"His shirt is white…when blood gets on it…very obvious eh? Kind of easy to remember that he had to change it after this afternoon. Not so obvious on _**black**_ though is it?" she said holding up both her hands as she had done for X. While both had long since healed, the bandaged right had a long dried red splotch in its center. The white haired hero recalled the alley, the panic-fever gaze that had peered up at him as he made to grab her. A bloodied and flesh torn hand ripping up from the barbed wire to shove him back. His own hand came up and touched the spot where her's had hours ago laid and found the material of his jacket oddly stiff, and finally understood.

"He can smell your blood on my jacket."

"That's a bingo. I'm sorry but he thought you hurt me."

"Well…he did," chimed in Gauntlet's voice now from somewhere in the back of the group. The observation was followed by the sound of someone giving a light but silencing punch to his arm. Softly following that was a whine. Ryce for her part didn't even seem to be bothered, shaking her head more at herself than anyone else.

"No. I got hurt because _**I**_ panicked…it was my own fault. No one else's…besides," she spoke, trailing slightly off at the end, "You've got bigger problems up ahead. Thinking I owe you all one hell of an explanation."

Several yards away X gave a derisive snort.

* * *

Author Notes: Every single chapter…I start it thinking how the hell am I going to make this long enough with what I have planned? And then? Then I end up cutting it in half. Oh well…just means I'm halfway done with Chapter 8 then.


	8. Chapter 8

_Alexandra Haskins could feel every bump of the gurney she was laying on even if she could no longer feel her legs. All she could remember was leaving her flat to meet some friends from Uni for dinner and a trip to the cinema. The sun had been setting as she stepped down off her stoop and moved towards her car. Now, as her only functioning ear listened to the muffled shouts of the paramedics, her only functioning eye could look up and see the stars above her. Then all she could see was white as she slipped between the electric doors of what she could only assume to be an emergency room._

_She tried to ask what happened…to ask where she was…but the tube holding open her bloodied and glass shredded airways rendered only wet choking gasps. Briefly, in the back of her mind, she could recall some horrible shrieking sound, metal ripping apart metal, glass exploding into her face. But this was all that could come through the black and hazy edges of her inner thought. The all too bright room was dimming, dulling around her peripheral vision and the doctors' and nurses' shouts and commands were growing so much softer. Someone was saying something nearby…other driver…accident…intoxicated…but she no longer recognized these words, as the world seemed to fade around her. _

_I want my moth-_

_

* * *

_

Ryce was back in their kitchen. Back at the table where she had, less than an hour ago, gorged herself to the point of burst. The weak soup that Nigel had been badgering her over was now in front of her, the soft clink of the bowl against the table bringing her mind back. Despite the fact that she had sicked up most of her meal all over X's boots, she had never been less hungry. Who would be, given what she had to do. Given the reason all of them were sitting there, watching her expectantly. She made to push the bowl away only to have it halted by a clawed hand.

"I'm not hungry, Nigel."

"Humor me..."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his worry, she half-heartedly put a spoonful into her mouth. She was touched by his concern after all. The hot liquid slid down her throat without scalding her and a glance up showed some satisfaction leaking into the doctor's face. Perhaps he figured the taste of food would somehow stir her appetite. She dropped the spoon gently into the bowl.

Nope.

"I hate this…I never know where to start," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. It was more a comment to herself than any of the men and women sitting before her. Glancing up again she made to speak. Before she could continue, a hand shot up into the air, waving slightly. Confused, Ryce nodded at Robert.

"Um…Yes?"

"I have a question…"

A moment's relief, she smiled at him, glad to have some kind of query to springboard off of, "Okay…go ahead…"

"Are you seeing anyone?"

And really…why had she expected anything different?

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly so."

"Yes I have a boyfriend…and your speaking privileges for the evening have been revoked..."

"Serious-Serious boyfriend? Or casual, open, we can see other peop-OW!"

How three people had managed to smack him upside the head at the same exact time seemed to be a long practiced talent the team had refined over the years.

A lost look settled unto her face as she panned her gaze around the room at them all. This was hardly her first time giving this speech, and yet each time she felt like a small child unsure of anything and everything that fell out of her silly mouth. They all stared at her, patiently waiting her story. Behind them, in a shadowy corner, X stood, glancing every so often out a window, patrolling the borders of the room silently and diligently as if at any moment something might tear through the very wall. Always the alert soldier. He has to be her mind chided. Given what a pain in the ass you are there is no other way for him to be. There was no other way to start, so taking a deep breath she dove straight in.

"I'm sure you all know what I am by now…half angel, half human, blah blah blah…no need to go into that again. I'm just going to cut right to the chase. Something is coming to your world. I was sent here by my father to warn you. But there are rules. We can come here…we can interact with you all obviously otherwise I wouldn't exist...but we can't meddle in any major goings on. Defend ourselves? Yes. Anything beyond that? No. He can't interfere…neither can I really except to let you know when it comes, what it is, and what it is going to do."

"Why? Why here? What does it want?" Tim interjected gently.

A humorless smirk made its way across her face as she shrugged. Always the same questions, "Why? Revenge I supposed. Revenge on my father…on the human race…on m-…it doesn't really matter does it? The why of it that is. Nor does the location choice…I've been doing this for over 2 years I haven't been able to catch a pattern so for all I know it's random. As for what it wants? It wants for humanity to cease. Same old song and dance."

They were all staring at her…blank expectant stares. Leaning back slightly in her chair, she gave a small sigh. Considering the run around she had given them the past week or so, she knew how poor of an explanation she was giving.

"My brother D'xias is on his way. It's…It's so damn hard to explain this…" she said shaking her head slowly. Then a light seemed to go on inside of her eyes. She'd been making it so difficult. A hand reached into the pocket of her scrubs, feeling around for the trinket she had swiped into it before Raven had teleported them down to the pier. The marble came out with ease, its rings once again orbiting it slowly. For only a moment she considered it, head cocked to one side before flicking it out unto the table. A soft clink sounded as it bounced once, then twice, before stopping in the center, hovering lowly above the surface. Now, the Titans' attention was on the orb, watching as a myriad of colors swirled within its gradually expanding depths. Ryce nodded in some form of self approval, a finger tracing one of the growing rings, "…showing you is easier."

She felt X's stare burning a hole in her back, staying her hand. Once again, without looking, she knew the absolutely livid expression he was casting in her direction. Hand paused, hovering over one of the rotating rings, it didn't surprise her that she did not give a rat's arse. With an arch of her eyebrow she snapped out without even glancing back.

"If you have a god damned problem with this then do feel free to chime in and help…"

Her guardian remained silent. The hateful burning gaze was still there…but silence. As if goaded by this lack of response, her fingers came to life, spinning the ring, twitching to another, flicking and twisting seemingly at random. The swirling colors of the orb began to churn, melding and bleeding into one another. Instantly, the air became thick with that electric metal tang. A spark snapped out from one ring to the next, then another, then three more. Soon they were uncountable, melting together until the room was flush in white penetrating light. The team's eyes snapped shut, protecting their assaulted retina as the room flared into white.

* * *

_The room was dark. Eyes tried so desperately to adjust to the strange shadow after so much light. Soon enough, it all came into focus. The walls were nearly hidden in shadow. Great arching stone walls, which stretched so high that the glimmering glow of torch and candle could not reach up into the inky black above. The embers of flame glimmered across a long, thin stretch of table, crackling quietly in the strange echoing silence of this large and mysterious room. No one spoke, though the long table sat before dozens of figures shrouded in cloak and hood. All stared in quiet tension towards the room's south end, where the table faded into black, where none of their number remained. _

"_How dare you…"_

_From the dark the voice crackled with unsung hate. The owner's form was held back from view by shade and black. Suddenly, a flicker of something in the shadow and now, only his poison orange eyes hung in the abyss, narrowed floating orbs burning with rage. Across the table, at its head, a man sat raising a single dark brow in arrogance. The head of the table was a tall, handsome man with blue-black hair, slicked back against his head. A single shock of white, not unlike Jason Blood's, blighted the oil hued hair. In front of him, his hands were folded delicately across one another almost casually. The candle light flickered and quivered across his features, perhaps being the cause of the odd shimmer that glinted through it, as if something much different lay behind this handsome mask. With a lazy air, he leaned back into his dark ornate chair, bright blue eyes, yellowing with an age that did not match his face, fell away from that orange stare. The slim, almost pretty hands unmeshed and grasped a wine glass gently around the stem, swirling the contents within. A rich, smooth voice thick with a British accent drawled out as he considered the dark liquid._

"_Is there something bothering you, boy?" _

_A hiss, inhuman and loathing sliced out of the dark, the eyes hovering there narrowing in rage. The dark haired man gave a laugh and finished his wine, shaking his head in clear amusement as he poured himself another glass. He was one of only two not hooded, one of two whose face was not hidden from view at the table. Without skipping a beat, he filled the other non-shrouded form's glass with the blood red drink, ignoring the tremble in her hands, her mismatched eyes never leaving those that floated at the table's end. She was younger here, though Ryce at an older age was not all that different from this girl. Still rather oddly worn and tired looking, still too skinny. The expression of timid suspicion and distrust all the same on the slightly younger face. Her blond hair was shorter here, loose and unbraided, not quite reaching her shoulders. The hood of her own cloak was resting against the back of her neck. At the dark haired man's insistence and badgering she took the wine he'd poured her, sipping it. Her eyes stared into the dark ever still. Flinching when the hissing tone returned, shame coated her face when she heard the words._

"_Do not play games with me Azrael. I've seen its back…I've seen the mark! That '__**thing**__!?' You chose this filth!? You bring insult to your station…to your kind! You call yourself a god? You are a disgrace!"_

_The dark haired man – the Angel of Death himself, Azrael – smiled down the table. Gleeful amusement glittered blackly on his face in the flickering candle light, inciting the hiss from the dark to grow into a growl. Beside him, Ryce's face twisted into something so different from her apprehensive simper at the insult of her father. The familiar glare of fury flamed within her, and she stood, small fists slamming on the table top as she did so, her wine spilling in a current across the dark wood._

"_Shut your mou-"_

_In the dark those orange eyes flashed wide in rage, tearing away from the father to burn down at the daughter, "Do not address me__ nephilim! Parasitic __spawn of human bitch flesh!"_

_Azrael's fist crashed down into the tabletop, the impact echoing like thunder into the dark nothingness. Splinters stuck out from the crater in which his hand sat, his voice cold as ice ringing out to silence the voice from the shadows, "Enough."_

_Slowly he stood, his hand dusting the other free of the splinted wood clinging to it, before stretching out and lying gently against the teenager's shoulder. It guided her back to her chair, though her gaze never wavered away from dark. Without words he directed his glass of wine to her trembling hands before turning his stare towards the south end. A smile rose up on his face once more, his eyes glittering not with humor but with dark venom and disgust. His voice echoed with glistening patronization, absolutely sodden with condescension._

"_You question my decision then? It does not meet your illustrious approval? And who should I have chosen? You? What have you ever accomplished in your miserable excuse for existence? You are __**nothing**__. You have always been and will always be __**nothing**__. I would rather condemn the world to chaos than waste my time on such a pathetic and worthless little boy. Now…get out of my sight."_

_Silence rippled across the table, the cloaked figures darting their gaze from one end to the other. The orange eyes gleamed with black promise of cruelty and malice. Then, they shut, the black falling over their place once more. In the quiet, footsteps resonated loudly, away from the table and further back into shadow, before fading into nothing. A hushed murmur broke out amongst the room's inhabitants for the first time, excited and anxious in tone. Harsh and sharp glance were thrown to the two at it's head. Azrael did not even regard them, instead rolling his eyes before settling back into his throne like seat, hands reaching out and stealing one of the hooded form's wine glass._

_The knife hurtled out of the dark like an arrow, cutting some of the many candles at the wick, plunging the room into further darkness. The anxious whispers were choked off in a single gasp, as if from one entity, as the sharp edge sheered through the delicate stem of Azrael's glass raised now to his lips. He paused, half of his glass's stem shattering in a musical tinkering against the table as he lowered that which was still intact. The black blade lingered mid air, the tip scratching gently against the flesh of his throat. Beside him Ryce sat, a single fragile looking hand outstretched, blind eye glowing eerily in the guttering light of one of the few remaining candles. The knife trembled, easing away from the Archangel's neck, before coming to rest in her palm. Once more she stood, fist enclosed around the hilt, eyes set into the black from which that hissing voice sounded once more._

"_Who the hell do you think you are?"_

_For a moment she stood, expressionless and staring into the abyss hovering beyond her father's council. All eyes now rested on her, silent and expecting as she trembled unsure. Eyes that leered at her from beneath shadowy hoods, judging her every move. Finally, the knife clattered to the table, a grim smirk so much like her father's growing steadily across her face, the false bravado hanging in the air._

"_I am everything you wish you had, you disappointment."_

_There was no silence…no break. Instantly, hateful, spiteful laughter rose up out of the dark…mad, black cackling._

"_Protecting your daddy then Little Maggot? You will both regret today. Whatever pain you have felt in the past…I promise it has only just begun. For him you will pay in flesh and in blood. Your's. Others'. I don't fucking care from which it comes. I will destroy every last thing you hold dear."_

_And then the candles shuttered out._

_

* * *

_

As suddenly as it had begun, the Titans found themselves back in their kitchen gazing around in blinking confusion. At the table, Ryce was tinkering once more with the orb, folding the rings this way and that, pointedly ignoring the way X kept shooting her poisonous looks. The look upon her face was neutral as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred at all. From where he was leaning on the counter top, Vic stared blankly at her before finally breaking the silence.

"What…the hell…was that?"

"I used the orb to show you how this whole mess started," Ryce said giving one last ring a spin before the inner globe to fade into swirling grays. With a nod of satisfaction she continued.

"There are an uncountable number of different worlds. Universes living in parallel with one another, each representing a whole array of different possibility and paths. You already know this of course having dealt with it a few times on your own. The day that I just showed you; the thing you saw…destroyed one of those worlds…my father and I watched it blink out of existence unable to stop it. And then 3 more followed…with a promise that this was only the beginning. To get back at ou-**my** father…he's going to shred his way through every world he can before someone stops him.

"Your world is his next target."

It had been obvious. Yet hearing it out loud, hearing the tiny herald actually say it, seemed to finally bring it home and make it real. Many of them nodded in confirmation; weary in how used they were to these never ending moments of crisis. Beast Boy frowned halfway through his nod, a thoughtful look appearing on his face. Holding up one hand he halted Ryce from speaking, "Wait…what about this other angel you said was coming. Your brother…Dock-Sea-Us or something. Won't he be able to stop this guy?"

"You aren't listening to me. D'xias IS the problem."

"Wait…that thing in the dark was **your brother**?!"

"…half-brother."

"Your own brother killed billions of people and your father isn't doing anything to stop it?!"

"The rules…"

"Screw the rules! Why is he doing this?"

"I-I…I don't know…it doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter? Doesn't matter!? Of course it matters! It makes no sense! You're the ones in charge! You're the powers that be! How can you all have just sat back and let this happen!? If he's an angel like you-"

"I AM NOTHING LIKE HIM!" she roared out, hand slamming down on the table, pupils contracting into vicious slits. Harsh gasps of breath fell from her lips as she glared at the green shifter, teeth just barely bared. Silence…stares…her indignant rage withered quickly under them. Shame was all she was left with, dropping her eyes from Gar's surprised face. Vainly, she tried to quell the horror of his comparison; after all he didn't know her from Adam. He didn't know the truth about her kind. When she spoke it came out a whisper.

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…you still think that angels give a damn about you all, don't you Garfield?"

She sat, staring quietly at the tabletop. There was an outright refusal on her part to meet the green man's hurt and confused gaze. Shattering the beliefs and hopes of another being…perhaps she was becoming just as heartless as the rest of them…perhaps his comparison wasn't so far off. Already she could feel a burning behind her eyes; this never went as she planned. Always they found out so much more than she was willing to say. Willing or not, however, they deserved…no, they _needed_ to know.

"Before this goes any further…I implore you Titans, let go of this romanticized and bastardized vision you all have of angels…at least when it comes to my siblings. The fluffy clouds and halos and harps. It is garbage…it's some lovesick twit's dream. There really isn't that much of a difference between them and demons…just the flip side of the same coin," her quiet shamed voice grew bitter and hard the further she ran on, "You want the truth? My father and I are probably the only of our kind who give a flying fuck if any of your species wakes up to tomorrow. When it comes to my father's other children, they cannot stand the very thought of your existence let alone watch over and protect your well-being. You all make them sick with your wars and your bombs and your evils. They think you are scum. I had to beg to come here at all and even then I have more strings attached to me then a goddamned puppet. 'Spring cleaning' That's what my father's council called what D'xias is doing. A few less badgersome worlds to watch over after all they said… 'Mayhaps he is breaking a few rules but who can truly find fault in him given this grave embarrassment from Azrael?' D'xias is not coming here to help you. He is coming here to _**erase**_ you."

Heavy silence took them as her words sank into them. Some looked surprised at Ryce's increasingly embittered and resentful tone…others, like Raven, simply sat, knowing the truth already and resigning themselves to it. Ryce looked down at her hands once more, unwilling to continue. Perhaps if she just sat there they would be able to draw the rest of the conclusions they needed all on their own. Perhaps if she kept her temper in check they would not pick up on a few things she should not have let slip through.

"What about you?"

Her eyes had not so much as wavered with the threat of tears since that bitter edge found its way into her voice. Noel's words seemed to snap her out of this trance of self-loathing, her eyes darting over to him. His gaze was unreadable, studying and examining as if she was some experiment of vague interest. She knew that gaze, and could see the conclusions already being drawn in his mind. Instantly, dread began to eat away at her as she shook her head violently in denial of whatever she thought he saw in her.

"I'm not like them! I told you I don't-"

"That's not what I meant Ryce. They hate humanity – your siblings that is – look down on us and think we're 'scum' to use your own word. It's ironic that we're considered the lesser beings…given how your brother is acting like an over-grown, petulant toddler who had his favorite toy taken away. What I'm asking is…if they are so repulsed by us…what exactly do they think of you?"

And there it was. It came quicker then it had in the past. She stared at him, a slow sad smile, barely the slightest quirk of her lips forming on her face. Hadn't she known better? Her mind gave a bitter humorless bark of laughter; these were the Titans after all. How often she had watched them and marveled at their prowess given their young ages? Had she really hoped that she wouldn't have to get into this? Shaking her head, the grave chuckle of her mind fell from her mouth.

"Well…you are all very good at finding raw nerves aren't you? D'xias may be a traitor…but he's not that different from the rest of my many siblings in opinion. You heard his charming nicknames for me. 'Little Maggot'…'half-breed'…those are just some of the kinder monikers I go by back home. The fact that our father was present was probably the only thing keeping him from going across that table at me…and sometimes even that's not a deterrent. A majority of my siblings think I'm a repulsive waste of flesh…they have no problems in showing this. I'd say there's roughly a dozen who don't completely hate me."

"A dozen? I thought you said most of your siblings-"

"Gar, I have 2,564 brothers and sisters currently living. 2,574 if you count each of my brother Ravana's heads as a separate person…"

"…Your dad gets around."

Starfire cut in, ever the optimist, ever trying to see the good in all things, "Surely your father does not tolerate such behavior. After all, he seemed to put D'xias in his place…after the human female dog comment."

"His anger was more about my mother than me. When it comes to my siblings' 'unpleasantly forceful' tendencies towards me? Well, it's more of a 'get a thicker skin' approach to parenting. Given my station, my father is more inclined to believe I should be able to put up with it, as long as they express their hatred of me in a relatively non-physical manner. Go after my mother, though? Go after his heart. That's the line," Ryce said

"Doesn't your mother have a problem with them treating you like that?" Vic mumbled shaking his head, a clearly dark opinion of Azrael forming in his mind. Get a thicker skin his mind snapped. Why the hell should she have to put up with that? What station could possibly place her in such a position that she should endure their emotional abuse day in and day out?

Ryce didn't bat so much as an eye as she answered, "I wouldn't know. She died giving birth to me." There was nothing accusatory in the statement, coming out of her mouth as if a simple fact and the slight shock and mortification on Vic's face were barely even noticed. Across the room Sophie watched this exchange, quietly. A deep frown had appeared at the nonchalant tone Ryce spoke of this all, as if she had long ago detached herself from this bizarrely abusive situation. Perhaps not excusing it in so many words, but resigning herself to it. Sophie was beginning to understand her odd –often manic – behavior. It was amazing that the girl was a complete and utter sociopath. The mortician was left wondering what hell her siblings put her through on a day-to-day basis, if D'xias' behavior was 'kind.' Before she could sink deeper into her thought, Raven's voice cut through the air.

"Ryce, you keep saying the why of this all should not matter. It does. Stop dancing around it. Why exactly does your brother seek revenge? What did your father do to enrage him to this point?"

Her features drawn up into a pained cringe, Ryce nodded her head. For a few moments she simply sat there, unwilling or perhaps unable to put it into the right words. When she did speak, it was with great and tender caution, "He…overlooked D'xias. He withheld something of great value from him…and he withheld the knowledge that it had been given to someone else."

At the table Rob frowned, poking a finger absently at one of the orb's stilling slowly spinning rings, "…Well? What did he withhold? Money? Power? Candy? The color orange? Wha-"

"His position, alright? The term 'Angel of Death' is misleading because he does not decide how, when, or even why you die. It is his job, however, to decide what comes next…what is done with your soul…when you die he is the one who judges the life you have led. That's what he withheld…he declared a successor to his position and it wasn't D'xias."

Tim's eyes widened in surprise at her rather abrupt revelation. It was rather hard to wrap his mind around what the girl was saying. As if the rather clear confirmation of an afterlife wasn't enough of a surprise, he felt ill impressed with the momentary vision they had of its judge. A flippant young man in an out of date suit with a long enough cruel streak that he turned a blind eye to his own kid's abuse. That he kept council with a group of creatures that could not give a damn if their own worldly charges we annihilated. It was not precisely a vote of confidence.

"So you're saying that he decides who goes to heaven and who goes hell?" Beast Boy chimed in.

"No. Not that simple."

"But you said there is an afterlife."

"No I did not."

"There isn't?!

"Didn't say that either."

"That doesn't make any-"

With a quick, dark look, Raven cut the rest of the green Meta's words off. His sentence trailing off into quiet nothing, he dropped his gaze uncomfortably as the violet haired woman snapped, "You are wasting time with frivolous questions, Garfield. Drop it." Under his breath the shifter mumbled a mildly sarcastic apology, refraining from rolling his eyes. Having ignored the useless back and forth between the two, Tim looked up to Ryce again, having come across in his thoughts something that made little sense.

"You said your father has a successor. An heir? Aren't gods immortal though? Why would he need an heir?"

She rubbed her temple as she explained as if struck with a sudden headache, "Immortality is a concept invented by the short lived species of the universes, Tim. The idea of it is a fallacy. Nothing is truly immortal by definition, not even the gods or certain beings that fancy themselves as such. There may be one exception to eternity…but even I'm not presumptuous enough to ask Death if and when she's going to cark it. Regardless, one day far into the future, long after your time I'm sure, my father will die and his heir will take his place in Judgment. D'xias assumed he would be chosen or at least someone who shared his mindset...and given his hatred of humanity you can only imagine how bad an idea that would be. When he wasn't chosen…well…I already showed you his reaction."

Up until this point, Noel had been silent since his inquiry into Ryce's familial relations. Now, as he stared her, ice had slowly been creeping over his gaze, though it was not directed at the fragile youth before him. After all, she was just the messenger. Yet every word she spoke had seemed to harden his expression further. The fact that none of this was her fault…that she did not share in this familial hatred was slowly being buried under the ridiculous absurdity of it all. Finally, before she could continue he asked, his voiced forcefully controlled, "Where is he then?"

Attention was snapped towards him, shock and perhaps maybe a tinge of fear reflecting in Ryce's eyes for only a second, "I'm…I'm sorry?"

"You heard me…Where is the heir? Was he there when D'xias found out? If he's good enough to be the heir to a death god then where was he, and where was his god damned common sense?"

("Heh…death god…god damned…")

"Shut up Rob! How could he not have stepped up and stopped all this before it even began? Anyone with the IQ of a jar of mayonnaise would have realized he intended to interfere! So if your idiot father didn't have sense, why not his lackey? Why did he allow not one, not even two, but **four worlds **and everyone within them to die without lifting a fucking finger? Your kind claims to be better than us and yet they turn up their nose when their own fuckups destroy the very people they are supposed to be better than! Why isn't this heir doing something about this!? Why isn't he fixing the chaos that he and your father started? _**Where they hell is he!?**_"

It was Sophie who ended the coming tirade, however justified it may have been.

"Stop. The heir_** is**_ trying, Noel. She's sitting right in front of you."

Ryce, who had looked down during Noel's speech, each of his passing words growing in volume, cringed when Sophie said it. So wrapped up in the indignant fury of the indifference of the power's that be, Noel had not seen the guilt creeping into her eyes. The shame had made her seem so much smaller and pathetic than she previously was. Glancing at Sophie, Ryce saw none of the accusing stare Noel had fixed her with, but a pitying, sympathy that made the half angel feel all the worse. Yet still the Titan known as Morgue continued, trying to explain herself.

"In the image, D'xias mentioned a mark…I'm sorry…when I put you in those scrubs I saw the tattoo you have all over your back. That's the mark he was angry over wasn't it? An ouroboros…it would make sense. That's how your brother found out that your father chose you to be his heir," Sophie spoke, her voice soft and without blame, easily recognized as an attempt to be calming. It was all Ryce could do to restrain herself from bursting out into derisive laughter, trying to keep the anger out of her voice as she explained.

"He chose me to be a fleshy, safety deposit box. An over glorified piggy bank for his powers. You really think he'd be foolish enough to entrust the job to someone like me? I may have a lengthier longevity then some of you are going to have…but for my kind I've got one foot already in the grave. Half blind…weak…asthmatic…my own powers destroy my body at a faster rate than I can heal it. Human and death angel were not apparently a good mix as I'm sure a lot of you have already seen from my less than stellar physical abilities. I'll die long before my father…sooner rather then later if my brothers and sisters have their own way. My purpose was to be a temporary guardian to his heirship…to keep it secret and safe from the homicidal lunatics that make up the rest of my family until my father could train up a real heir."

Raven couldn't help the incredulity they came over her at this. Temporary? Young as she appeared Raven knew better than to trust her own eyes. Just as the dark haired and quite ancient Azrael appeared so youthful…there was no doubt that Ryce's appearance a result of that longevity she spoke of as well. Furthermore, regardless of how much they hated Ryce, and regardless of how little they cared for human life…the council was not so flippant in their duties to send a child. And so the question was how long had the death god been putting off getting a true heir? How many years had his daughter kept his secret?

"How old are you Ryce?" Sophie asked as if reading Raven's mind, fixing the seemingly younger girl with a curious stare.

The change in her demeanor was almost instant. Ryce gave a small start at her question, eyes darting back and forth among them in a hint of sudden nervousness. There was a flush spreading across the bridge of her nose, only slight. The tip of her ears however had burned bright red. A slim hand shot up behind her head scratching absently as she turned her gaze down mumbling something quietly under her breath, attempting to even cover it with a forced cough. Sophie frowned and Raven sighed…she had been right. Young by her kind's standards, just as Raven had suspected, but wizened by human value. It was hardly the first time Raven had heard of angels, even ones of Azrael's various and numerous lines, being sent out to do the bidding of the higher powers…but rarely so young. Surely there could have been someone else more qualified?

"70…and I'm guessing your brother has a few centuries on you?" the violet haired woman intoned with a sage nod.

Ryce was still rubbing her palm nervously against her scalp not meeting their eyes, "Well…yea he's a bit older than me…but-"

"How much older?"

"…A lot. But I…I um...didn't say 70. I'm well…a "tad" younger than that."

"How much younger?"

A laugh fell from the blonde's mouth, oddly shrill and unnatural, making the blacktrinian sitting across the room cringe briefly. Ryce seemed to either not notice or care, waving her hand nonchalantly in a carelessly dismissive gesture. Raven could not help but feel a sudden dread at this reaction. There was after all no way she had said what Raven was suddenly thinking. No…that would just being ridiculously insulting and mad of the council and her father. Raven assured herself that Ryce had said some other number that sounded nothing like 70…that her tired ears had just misheard her completely. Gracing them all with a forced smile, Ryce shrugged her shoulders, "Oh…it's not a big deal! What do numbers really matter anyways right? After all, it's just a decade or two…

"…or five."

Silence…beautifully awkward silence.

"…you said 17 didn't you?"

"…I'm almost 18."

Now the youngest could only cringe at the groan of dismay that seemed to go around the room. A weak "sorry" was all she managed as across from her Beast Boy let his head just drop to the table in defeat, with a loud clunk.

"Oh this is good. The God of Judgment allows his son to carry on in a genocidal, cross dimensional tantrum and he sends _**Hannah Montana**_ here to help us…awesome," Noel snapped irritably shooting the demi angel a withering look of a condescension. This time Ryce's ears weren't just red in anger and embarrassment, but almost purple as her temper flared up over her timid hesitation. And so the room simply descended into a general chaos of rambling.

"Aye! I didn't have to come at all you know! I'm what? 5 years younger? Still bloody older than half of all of you when you started playing dress up. Hell, Tim was what, 10? When he started flitting around in his skivvies with the Bat"

("I did not run around in 'skivvies'!")

Robert cast a curious look at her. Head cocked to one side much a like a confused dog he noticed something about her words choice, "Bloody? Skivvies? Are you British?"

"Stop asking stupid questions!"

("Sophie…what are skivvies?)

("They're underwear Nigel.")

"They're not stupid questions!"

("…Oh. You were running around in the middle of the night in your underwear with a grown man when you were 10?")

("And yet he questions the jokes.")

("No! I had pants! I was the first one to finally wear pants!")

"Can everyone focus?" Raven tried to speak over them all only to be drowned out by Robert calling out.

"You are British! You don't hide your accent when you get angry!"

("See? Pants!")

"QUIET!" Raven yelled out over the din as five or six objects promptly glowed black and exploded all over the kitchen. Immediate silence followed as Tim lowered his green clad leg back to the floor. Ryce's fuming glare directed at Rob softened and she merely stared down at her fidgeting hands. At least they all had the good sense to appear slightly sheepish for their bantering…well…almost all.

"…so about that boyfriend."

When Raven loomed up darkly behind him emanating a demonic growl with a great deal of black tentacle like shadows appearing from the bottom of her robe, Robert simply shrank down into his seat with a plea of, "Please don't eat me."

From where she sat, Ryce muttered in a perfectly dead panned monotone, "Perhaps this is a moot point but have any of you considered medicating him?"

"Many times. It doesn't help," Noel grumbled back

"No bantering. Back on subject," Tim cut in, carefully avoiding the fact that moments ago he had been just as much of a part of said bantering, "We're going to have to contact some other teams…get them in on this. If this guy is powerful enough to wipe out an entire planet then we'll need all the help be can get to start searching for…why are you shaking your head now Ryce?"

"Because you can't just send out a search party. Dearest Big Brother isn't here yet. Trust me you'd know if he was. Let me explain him a little more clearly. D'xias both is and is not as all powerful as you seem to think him to be."

"…You make no sense…" came the mutter from the green Titan nearby.

"But I do. Don't misunderstand me because he is strong…most Halflings of angelic or demonic blood are – I'm the exception, not the rule," she pointed out, "But he's beatable. D'xias doesn't destroy a plant…his presence erases it. His victories stem from a lack of knowledge and/or stamina on the part of those go against him. Once he arrives in a dimension, he begins a chain reaction along the very fabric of its physical reality, eventually culminating in an anomaly that is basically one giant reset button. Once he gets here – which could be anywhere between in the next few days and the next few months – you will have 2 hours and not a second more or less to kill him."

"What happens at the end of 2 hours," Tim asked.

"Ever see the end of Poltergeist? Picture that but instead of a house it's your whole universe. Everyone and everything is just blinked out of existence as if they never were. Brother Dearest flees just as the world caves in on itself, saving his own cowardly ass to continue on to yet another plane. The trick is destroying him before the final stages of his assault. Like me he can regenerate wounds quickly. Unlike me his ability to do so relies on a set of drones he creates…mine are just innate and unfathomably painful to use," the oddly cheerful manner in which she related this final part raised some eyebrows. With a nod Tim absorbed this information, glad to see the girl's mood no longer so somber…however inappropriate this new manner was. At least she was answering their questions now, instead of skirting around them like a particularly skittish cat. But there were still a few more things to cover.

"So your brother creates drones and reality destroying paradoxes…what is it that you do? You may not be much of a brute fighter but you scared Nearson badly enough to have him run into his own buzz saw. I didn't miss you trying to knock Noel and your guardian on their asses either. Contrary to what you try to project…obviously you're not exactly helpless."

Slowly, a grin began to spread across her face as she glanced slyly at the red, green, and yellow garbed Titan. When her lips parted slightly, the fangs that hinted at her inhuman nature made that small smile almost feral. Manic, Tim thought, completely and utterly manic. A chuckle grated in her throat as she leaned back, carefully regarding Tim as she did so.

"Want me to show or tell?"

She was challenging him…the girl looked ready to fall out of her chair from exhaustion and yet was challenging him. He couldn't help the smile on his face in response.

"…show…"

All at once the chair Robin was sitting on was yanked from beneath him, his superior balance and reaction time the only reason he did not go sprawling onto the floor. Twisting around on his feet, arms flying up to shield his body from attack, he made to face his attacker. What he faced was the kitchen sink. Confusion reigned over him as he glanced carefully back towards the table to find the smaller blond girl still grinning at him, though far more playfully then ferally. Once more her blind eye glowed softly. A gloved hand lashed out, Tim making sure to stay the other Titan's before they attempted to assist.

"You're telekinetic?"

"Bad guess. I'm disappointed that you can't piece it together yet. You might wanna dodge this next punch."

Flicking his head abruptly to the side, Tim could feel the air displaced near his right ear, as if some invisible fist had just attempted collide into his temple. Still there was nothing to see besides the chilly fog of his own breath, the air around him growing clammy and cold. Another swing, barely dodged, cut through the air where his head once occupied. A strike towards his abdomen. Something was there all right…something very familiar though he could not see or place it. Finally, trying to center in on the invisible source of the blows, he spiraled around with a roundhouse kick. Mid air his leg halted, his foot, even encased in his thick boots, feeling the great strength of the invisible hands that gripped it. Then in an instant those unseen hands flickered into being. Grey metal gauntlets, covering black clad muscular arms floated without a body for a moment, strangely grey and glowing softly in appearance. Soon enough a broad torso also cloaked in black appeared as the rest of the apparition's body revealing itself. Then, above it all, a smooth masked face of orange and black leered down at the shorter youth, amusement glittering blackly in a glowing angry eye.

"Hello Robin," Slade practically purred. Tim could feel his jaw go slack in shock, the voice grating with all the same cruelty as it ever had. There was something more to it though, another voice echoing within it. Suddenly his foot was released, swinging back to the floor easily as the long dead villain stepped calmly back.

"Creepy isn't it, Robin?" he questioned, and Tim could now recognize that strange voice intertwined with Slade's own coming from not the apparation's mouth but from behind them both. With a few cautious back steps, Tim put distance between himself and Slade's flickering visage. All the while Ryce grinned widely at him.

"I control the spirits of the dead Tim. I can make Deathstroke here do whatever I please," she said with a smirk, as Slade intoned the same. Without hesitating Ryce flicked her hand and the apparition responded instantly, flipping backwards and away from the Titan leader. Upon landing it, reeled around striking out at the air with a forceful kick, its limbs flickering and streaking through the air with a strange flowing intangibility. Finished with its display of agility, its arms raised up and over to rest atop its head, its hands – palm out – pointing up towards the ceiling. For a moment Slade's spirit just stood, hands perched awkwardly like rabbit's ears on his head before its hips began to swing from side to side. Above its head, its hands were opening and closing in time to the motion of its hips and some unheard beat. After a few seconds of wide eyed and disturbed silence Vic broke down and asked the question.

"…is that Caramell Dansen?"

"I am a big fan of internet memes…wanna hear him sing Chocolate Rain?"

"…no."

"Are ya sure? He also does a great Chris Crocker impression…"

"That's enough Ryce…send him back," Raven ordered much to the smaller girl's apparent disappointment. She offered no arguments though, and with a flick of her hand the spirit shimmered briefly before fading into nothingness. With Slade's abrupt departure so went the strange pale glow of her left eye. What was left was clearly a teenager whose very eyes were struggling to stay open, her display leaving her even more drained than before. A quick glance was shared between the empath and team leader that clearly said it was approaching that time in which they would have to wrap this all up. Oblivious to this wordless communication her team mates continued to question.

"So you can summon and control any one who has ever died?! Just like that?" Garfield asked a tremor of excitement betrayed in his voice. Already Ryce could guess where this line of questions could and would most likely lead. A room full of young adults who's parents long ago rotted into the ground? No question where it could lead and so without hesitating she cut them off.

"No. Not anyone. Spirits who are not at rest? Yes…those are easy. Souls of departed evils now paying for their crimes? Also pretty easy. Those at rest however is where the line is drawn. I've never been able to do it. Tried once or twice and succeeded in nearly hemorrhaging my brain to the point being a perpetual state of tomato. Rested souls struggle to remain in peace…the restless embrace a chance to act and taste life if only for a moment…even if it is under my control that they get that taste."

"And what if you lose control?" Noel asked, "What if you slip up and you let these things loose?"

A quick glare narrowed her eyes before her expression switched back into one of neutral calm. Her voice tried to reflect this, "I could turn the same question around on anyone here with powers, Noel. Tara could swallow the city whole with one misplaced tremor. Gar could tear apart countless of citizens, limb from blood drenched limb if he doesn't keep the animal mind contained. Your own girlfriend could simply give in and you'd have a hell of a lot more problems on your and trying to find 4 lens reading glasses. I've had 17 – nearing on 18 – years to hone my powers…2 of them to cope with the changes being in the mortal world brings. I'm not going to lose control of that part of my powers."

This assertion seemed to satisfy the white haired Meta for the moment as he leaned back in his chair with a nod. Sensing a lull in the questioning and not imagining what else anyone could have left to ask Tim decided to bring up the elephant in the room.

"Well…now that we know everything all we need to decide is-"

"I have one more question," Noel pointed out without bothering to look at Robin. Not knowing what other response this could really warrant, the masked man simply sighed out, "Of course you do."

"Why exactly do you know so many intimate details about our lives Ryce? Names…histories to some degree…Nigel mentioned something about you knowing the codes to the Tower?"

Yet again anyone could see the embarrassment and reluctance to answer coming over her face. Yet again she was back to looking anywhere but directly at any of them. One of her hands reached out to grapple around the still floating artifact at the table's middle and tug it closer to her body.

"I don't suppose I can plead the fifth?"

"No you cannot."

"I…well…there's not much to do back home. 'Specially since I'm always trying to stay out of the way…ya know, brothers and sisters wanting me to die and all. My father didn't seem to mind as long as all my work got done and…and I'm not making any sense what so ever am I?"

The blank, utterly nonplussed looks she was receiving served as a confirmation. Clearly frustrated with her inability to convey a simple thought, she instead turned back to the orb and once more began to flick and spin the rings around it. Unlike before, no sparks or light flashed from the spiraling bands, though the orb hovering in the midst of them began to shift colors. From the hazy swirl, shapes finally began to take form, blurry and unclear at first, slowly sharpening into focus. The rings suddenly gave a mechanical click, locking in place to allow the Titans to look into the orb's center to see the images it displayed. Viewed from above, they could see a group of young men and women, all leaning over and towards a table to look at something upon it's surface. Very familiar men and women. Tim's gaze darted from the orb to the ceiling above them; the Tim in the orb mimicked the action. Several others tested this, waving hands, gesturing with their fingers and making faces as their counterparts in the orb did the same. A hand reached and tapped a ring, setting them back into spiraling motion as the scene in its center disintegrated back into swirling colors. In an instant it shrunk back into its large ball bearing size before disappearing into Ryce's hands.

"I may be his safety deposit box…but I still have work to do as his safety deposit box. When he felt I was old enough, my father set me to monitoring some of the mortal worlds. Check to make sure no rules were being broken…to make sure that there was nothing that needed his attention. Who's dying, why they died, who's taking over the world, is it important, blah blah blah blah blah," she intoned her hand rolling the now small sized artifact from finger to finger, "So…I can see into any world with this thing."

"You spied on us," the white haired Meta said, his voice dripping with cold accusation. Upon her hand the orb stopped bobbling across her fingers, a twist of her wrist making it disappear into her palm as she shyly looked away from the table. Noel was surprised by the lack of disagreement or the barrage of excuses.

"You're not denying it…mind telling us why?"

Sighing, she began to mumble inaudibly what Noel could only assume was an answer. With a roll of his eyes he leaned forward and spoke, trying to keep the barking harshness out of his voice, "Speak up."

"Because the autographs and blushing isn't an act…she's a _**fan**_."

There was no way to keep the scarlet from spreading from the tips of her ears to the rest of her face this time. Out of all the times she had done this…never had she'd been this mortified. Mismatched eyes turned to stare at the blacktrinian who had spoken though not unkindly. She had forgotten his superior hearing, and with a drop of her gut she realized he'd heard her mumbling as clear as day. Not looking around to meet the other stares, she nodded trying to force the red glow out of her face.

"Yes. I'm a…'fan.' There was…_**is**_…some people of interest to my father in your world. He'd been keeping tabs on them and asked me to do the same once he handed over the responsibilities. I saw the original five of you fighting a few years back and…well…you guys were kind of awesome. So while I worked, _**I **_began to keep tabs on you guys…watched a few fights here and there…they were always so cool. Then one by one people started joining and the battles and people you were going up against started to actually bisect my work so I watched you more," and already Ryce could hear the excuse trying to make their way into her voice, lies as to why she had actually sat there and pried into these people's lives. She knew it really had NOTHING to do with her work. Shaking her head she looked up at them and simply said, "I've already told you how my family hates humans…I don't. Not just because I'm half either. I never expected to meet any of you…so it was very easy to look at all of you as characters…as an aspiration and means to an end. You were my proof to my siblings and myself that not all humans are useless scum. I watched you to reassure myself – I guess – that I was right and they were wrong. That there are enough legitimately _**good **_people in the worlds to warrant a chance…to warrant your protection."

All at once she felt the true exhaustion of the day closing in on her; it was even encompassing her sheer embarrassment of having to admit her quasi fan-girlish Titans crush. Of course this isn't a surprise, she thought as she leaned back into the chair she sat in. Vaguely, she could hear them talking amongst themselves, though she did not endeavor to listen to what the heroes – her heroes her mind snickered – thought of her slightly voyeuristic habit. She couldn't blame them if they were angry about it…but as heavy as her eyes lids felt, she did not think she could find the energy to be lectured about it right now. Heard but not comprehended Tim kept talking though not about what she thought.

"Well now that this whole mess had been straightened out we have one last thing to address…where is she going to stay?"

"But…will she not stay with us Tim?" Star questioned, an innocent look of confusion and imploring on her face. Tim sighed he knew that look. It was the same look the young woman got every time they passed a pet store and he shot down any idea of getting a fluffy "sibling" for Silkie. Except this isn't a kitten you're kicking out 'Boy Wonder,' his mind snapped, it's a 17-year-old kid who's gone through hell to try and look out for you all. Quickly he crushed these thoughts were they stood.

"We're not a halfway house for every power wielding, inter-dimensional Meta or hybrid that happened to cross our path Kory. We can't just take in everyone we meet."

"We can't just throw her out into the street Tim!" Nigel said, his own dismay written across his face. Aliens vs. Human round 1…ding! Tim's inner voice cackled in mad exhaustion. In the back of his mind Tim felt a head ache beginning to pulse as Gar, Tara, and Sophie nodded their heads in agreement with this sentiment. All were fixing him with looks of disapproval.

"Hey don't give me those looks! I'm not going to just dump her in the middle of the city to freeze and starve! We'll find lodging for her…I will give her a communicator and she can contact us upon D'xias' arrival," Tim argued hoping this explanation would satisfy them and stop the glaring.

…nope…

"We have a few spare rooms, Tim"

"Sophie, we are not a hotel. I'm sure Ryce understands. What would she do? Hang around the Tower all day? She'll get in the way. And I think-"

Raven interrupted him, her voice tired and resigned as she spoke, "I think we should all go to bed and discuss this tomorrow. It's midnight and everyone is exhausted. We're not going to be able to find her a place to stay tonight and anyway…she's fallen asleep."

In her chair Ryce's head had fallen unto one shoulder and was very clearly fast asleep. For a moment Tim considering waking her up and shipping her right off to a shelter or actual hotel, sure that a god of death could find a way to foot the bill for his own kid. A glance at the bandage surrounding her head and the purple crescents under her eyes quickly squashed the idea. Furthermore, were the similar looks of sleep deprivation marring his own teammates. Raven was once again right and with a nod of his head he agreed to table the motion until a time tomorrow where his team no longer resembled the walking dead.

At the table Robert made to poke the sleeping teenager only to find the whole of his hand suddenly disappearing into X's fist. The look on the large Marine's face was a clear enough message of warning and without a sound he retracted his hand. With an anger tinged look of polite questioning, X straightened and gazed at the Titan leader for his word.

"You can both camp out on our couches tonight."

The massive man nodded and without hesitation leaned over and picked her up effortlessly from the chair. Done so smoothly, the girl did not even appear disturbed as he made his way from the kitchen and into the Titan rec area where the black couches sat. He paid the following youths no attention as with the same gentle grace he placed Ryce on one of the cushioned ends. For a moment he simply stared down at her, checking her once over to ensure that his trained eyes had not in fact missed any damage. From behind the grey skinned alien emerged carrying a single blanket that was placed over her.

"There's extra blankets in the…" Nigel began turning back to face the Marine to find him gone. Black and blue eyes widened as he turned, scanning the circumference of the room for some sign of the half angel's guardian only to find nothing. The other Titans bore similar looks of confusion and worry each looking around themselves for the tiniest trace of where he had suddenly and abruptly disappeared to.

"Did anyone see where…?"

"He comes and goes…doesn't like…to stay around long. He'll check back…eventually. Did I fall asleep?" the voice murmured from the couch, interrupted halfway through by a large yawn. Nigel glanced back down at the girl her eyes still half lidded as she momentarily fell out of slumber. It didn't take anyone of great awareness to see this was a temporary state. With a simple nod of his head she granted him a sleepy smile and slipped out of her dozing wakefulness and back into unconsciousness. Within minutes the Titans left her, bent on doing the same.

* * *

"She's sugar coating how bad she has it, isn't she?"

"Most definitely," Raven said with a nod. From where he sat on the edge of his lover's bed Noel could only frown deeper. Lost in his thoughts he didn't see her violet eyes studying him as she explained, waiting for his reaction.

"Nephilim…angel/human hybrids that is…they're not completely uncommon amongst angels as an agregate…contrary to what she alluded to they don't all hate humanity. But deathlings…Azrael's children…for the most part they're no different than demons…Azrael more or less left them to their own devices and they became monsters. I can imagine they've done far worse to their little sister than simple name calling when her father isn't there to protect her…Nigel's x rays and scans show a sickening amount of old broken bones that did not heal properly."

Her words appeared to bring him into a further state of agitation. Softly, she crossed the room to stand in front of him. A delicate and gentle hand grasped his chin lifting it upwards to lock her eyes with his own. She knew that look well. Inwardly she sighed hoping to avoid another Fenton incident.

"You're feeling guilty now about the alleyway. You're dwelling on it. Stop. If she doesn't seem to be holding a grudge why should you?"

"A sickly teenage fan with a history of being viciously abused by her family is okay with the fact that I broke her head open like a walnut…"

"It was an accident Noel…"

"In fact, said teenager wanted to offer her apologies to me according to Vic. This is not comforting…it's twisted and disturbing."

"True…but who amongst us, besides the ever babbling son from Uberton, isn't twisted or distubed in some way? She's damaged goods…she fits in well then. It's over. Learn from it, move on, and go to bed…" she said with kind finality. Many years with the man had taught her enough that any bout of sulking had to be nipped in the bud to ensure no spiral of dwelling. The sidelong glance and slight quirk to his lips showed her that she had in fact succeeded. The hand grasping his chin was turned by his own and a kiss placed against her inner wrist.

As he made to stand up, a pale hand merely pushed him back unto the bed he had been sitting on. He stared blinkingly up at her for a few moments before moving to allow her room. Settling in, he smiled softly as the scent of her hair drifted up to his nose from where she curled up against him. In moments the exhaustion of the day had them deep in sleep.

* * *

Author Notes: God damn it this took so much longer than expected. Sorry for the delay…bad combo of writer's block and having 1 square ton of paperwork topple down on me at work. Oh well. If anyone's interested in some shameless plugging there's some "Endgame" (Spoilers Warning though) related art on my DA page…

terraine114 . deviantart . com

Ya know the drill…copy paste and delete the space. As always any and all feedback on Endgame is appreciated…even if just to tell me you hated it :D


	9. Chapter 9

_Razor blades…heart defects…lumps of defiled tissue turning on their homes, consuming it inch by inch…age…shreiking and twisting metal…flame and cold...In Tuscon a baby was put on his belly for a nap…in Puerto Vallarta 2 highschool girls got into a stranger's car…used needles __ ("__ohgodtheneedlesDaddyI'mscaredI'msorryPLEASEI'LLFIXIT__.")__…fangs and claws…a child born soundlessly…broken ladders…missed stairs…strokes, anurysisms, and blood clots oh my…the smell of gun oil and metal tang resting on someone's tongue ("Blue…terry clothe blue and orange…raspberry fish tell me the stars …they lie. Ogod…I…I can't do this any more.")…the clean snikt of a switchblade coming to life…shit and blood __and piss and fear…_

_Oh…above all else…__**fear.**_

_**

* * *

**_

At 2:00 a.m. sharp, a mere two hours after falling asleep at the kitchen table, Ryce woke gasping into the dark. Her hand flew up to her mouth, teeth biting down into the soft tissue of her knuckle. The pain silenced the scream, desperately bubbling somewhere in her throat. Still foggy with sleep and without her glasses, she felt a wave of confusion; she could not understand her bleary surroundings. She turned into the dark squinting at it as if trying to make out a shape, before asking,

"Where are we, Me-"

Finally, the dream logged mind released…she was in the Tower. The Titan's Tower to be exact. She was also talking to herself, as she hadn't seen the person she had been about to question in weeks. A cold sweat had soaked through the scrubs that Sophie had, so graciously, provided her with. Grasping blindly in the dark, she found her glasses lying on the armrest of the couch, slipping them on to peer into the night's shadows. For a moment, she considered summoning someone…perhaps Ms. Roxx. A little firelight until she got her bearings. Yet, in the end, she allowed her eyes to simply adjust, as opposed to risking more exhaustion and the harsh, pin needle sting throughout her brain.

Carefully, so as not to make enough noise to wake the still sleeping inhabitants of the tower, she stood and stretched. Eyes caught a small pile of clothes, left folded on top of the couch for her to change into. Without shame she disrobed, her pale flesh – straining against an all too visible set of ribs – dyed blue in the meager light of the night. For a moment her back was exposed, showing an array of faint, yet still fading scars, and the black, tribal swirls and strokes of a dragon wounding about to devour it's own tail. The whole of the design, spanned across her upper and into her lower back. Quickly, she slipped into the pants and shirt, eager to be rid of the sweat soaked garments…eager to hide the markings on her back once more. She knew she would not be getting back to sleep any time soon.

Minutes later, she found herself once more in the kitchen. Her eyes swept across it to see the disarray in which it had been left. Half made food on the counter…perhaps abandoned after the chaos of the afternoon. Dishes over flowed the sink, and something green and fuzzy seemed to be almost moving on the stovetop. Her nose wrinkled in revulsion of the debris she had not noticed upon first arriving (Notice? Her mind questioned. You had your brains in your lap!).

"Melodramatic much?" she murmured to herself, turning away from the sight, a hand reaching out to rip from a phone message pad, a single sheet of paper. A dark and strange smile had begun to cross her face as she sat down to write upon it. A simple list of ten names. Two hours ago they had been arranging her dismissal from the tower. Three hours from now they would emerge from sleep for training. That left her with little time…she'd have to get into their system for that COM number soon. She smiled to herself craftily…they didn't stand a chance.

* * *

"Nothing like a morale booster in the A.M.! I bet East doesn't get to get up at the butt crack of dawn to listen to Speedy tell them how much they suck."

"Do you really want to be on the B squad?"

"True…they are such a lovable bunch of misfits though…"

"Tar...Rob…Tower rule # 4…no knocking Titans Ea…Titans Ea…" the rest of Victor's words were cut off in a massive yawn. Neither blond gave him any indication of having heard him, as they shambled away from the training room along side Sophie and Garfield. The usually pleasant mortician looked ready to draw blood…pun certainly not intended.

"If Noel so much as thinks the word cardio in my presence again, I'm going to…"

"Sit on him? Eat him? Let him see you naked and blind him?" Tara supplied.

"Tower rule# 127, Tara leave Sophie the hell alone," Vic muttered again.

"Yea girls…too early for fighting…let's all just go to the kitchen and-"

"Make your own damn breakfast Gar," the both snapped with equal irritability. Beast Boy flinched and nodded as he put a few feet of distance between himself and the girls, hoping to avoid a rock to the skull or a flurry of fanged bats in his face. Judging by the looks they were granting him, perhaps today was not a good one to argue.

"Well, if the females shan't be performing their womanly duties, I'm going back to bed," Gauntlet replied with a stretch. Seconds later Sophie pondered Noel's badgering concerning cardio, having watched her blond teammate sprint around the corner quickly enough to avoid a launched rock. Said rock was now embedded into the hallway wall.

The other two males had the sense to not voice their thoughts on the matter, quietly following them to the kitchen. Gar busied himself with wondering if he should have a bowl of his Captain Sugar Fruit Honey Crisp…before remembering they were out. Disappointed, he entered the kitchen behind the others pondering toast.

…or tofu bacon and eggs…or French toast…waffles…fruit salad…or any of the other massive platters of food currently set up on their kitchen table.

All at once, the smells of fresh cooked breakfast hit him, so lost in his thought he'd not smelled it earlier. All across the table sat plates and trays of steaming breakfast foods. Sausage, toast, pancakes, fresh juices…it seemed unending. Jaws slack and eyes wide, the four just stared in wonder at the feast, before moving on to the kitchen as a whole. The counters sparkled and the sink gleamed, empty of its fur-ridden dish towers. Even the butter stain, from the toast cannon incident, was wiped clean off the ceiling. Beast Boy took a few steps towards the table, before looking down to the floor in wonder.

"Why aren't my feet sticking?"

"'Cause it's clean. Morning guys!"

Gar let out a decidedly feminine shriek of surprise and spun around. Instantly, he felt his face burn red when he found Ryce standing at the counter behind him, smiling lopsidedly as she twirled chopping knife in one hand.

"Um…Good morning?" Vic asked, eyes switching slowly from the girl to the table of food and then back again. Hair fastened up behind her head into high ponytail, she stood there grinning, ignoring the smear of white flour across her left cheek. A stained, and well-used apron hung around her front, protecting the clothes they had lent her from stains and splash. Soon enough her attention was back on the counter, where she began to rapidly run the knife across a pile of green vegetation, surprisingly agile hand motions expertly flicking the chopped herbs from cutting board to pot.

"Ryce? Did you do all of this?

"What? Oh the food?"

"And the cleaning?"

"Well…yea. Things in the sink were moving…kinda scared me. And I'm not too bad a cook, I think. It was something to keep me occupied back home when I wasn't working. Figured it was the least I could do for you guys after I fell asleep on you last night. Go ahead and tuck in," she grinned gesturing towards the table with her knife. Vic watched her while he made his way to the table with the others. Her own attention remained on her preparation as she tossed the knife into the sink behind her with one hand and flipped another much narrower blade up into the air with the other. Her strong hand caught it with apparently ease, before it sank the blade into what appeared to be a platter of fish, smoothly and rapidly removing the hair thin bones. A quick glance towards the others found them eyeing the food with quiet suspicion…especially one Garfield Logan.

"Uh…Ryce…not that I'm being ungrateful but…"

"100% Vegan Gar…all cooked with different pans, oils, and utensils too."

It seemed enough for the shifter, as he joined Sophie and Tara in trying the food set out. Vic was not so easily impressed and he continued with his suspicious eyeing of her, absently raising a fork to his mouth, not bothering to even see what was on it. All concentration broke upon the impact of taste and smell, his one eye widening, while its cybernetic twin flickered, almost offline, for a split second. A look around the table showed Sophie and Tara's similar looks of surprise and awe. Gar had no look…he was too busy shoveling the food down his throat to arrange any of his features beyond opening his mouth. All too soon Vic had to swallow his first bite, the savory taste of it a lingering ghost on his tongue. Before he could open his mouth to speak, a glass of orange juice appeared in front of his face. Glancing up, he found Ryce standing beside him offering the freshly squeezed drink with a hopeful look on her face

"Good?"

There were no words…no response. Had this girl really described her culinary skills as 'not too bad?' Good? Sophie and Tara were 'good.' It wasn't the right word…it was too simple…too trivial. The spices, the cut, the savory flavor of the food (sausage his brain realized…that was what it was.) His mind scrambled to find the correct response to the caliber of this one bite alone.

"Will you marry me?"

The reluctant hope was gone and a large smile broke out over her face as she laughed out. Without another word, she scuttled back to the counter to return with a plate of still hot muffins, which was placed on the middle of the table. Two hands reached out at the same time to grab, aimed towards the only purple-blue bespeckled one sitting on top of the pile. The skinnier of the two arms snatched it up first, before quickly bringing back to her mouth to childishly lick the top of it. Sophie could only give her a look of disgust as Terra grinned at the heavier meta.

"Ya snooze ya lose Tubby. Trust me you don't need it…"

The look upon Sophie's face clearly stated how badly she wanted to just launch one of the steaming muffins at the rail thin woman's head. Before she could, a plate with a second blueberry confection clicked to the table beside her hand, appearing as if on cue. A glance up revealed Ryce to be gracing Tara – by now obliviously enjoying her muffin – with a slight glare. Catching Sophie's eye, the frown quirked back up into a slight smirk before she mumbled beneath her breath. It was only loud enough for the mortician to hear, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"And looking like you _**desperately**_ need it is so attractive."

Sophie battened down the laugh, instead just allowing a smile to cross her face as the young woman moved away from the table and back to the counter. Ryce made her way about cleaning up the remains and scraps as Gar finally came up for air. Sophie glanced at his plate to see the reason; it was empty. Already, he was reaching for another stack of pancakes.

"You're going to make yourself sick."

"Don't care…this stuff is great! I mean this is the first _good_ breakfast we've had in like…3 weeks."

A side glanced from the teenager at the counter, as she finished wiping down the surface, before turning to wash her hands, "Really?"

"Between alarms going off and Tim's morning training regime, we're either too tired or don't have the time to break out the pots and pans," Vic pointed out before helping himself to another pile of hash browns. Drying her hands on a towel, Ryce nodded before placing the rag down and sighing.

"Hmm…it's too bad you guys have to spread yourself so thin that ya can't enjoy breakfast like this every day. Oh well…at least I can try to make you guys something else while I'm here…before Tim finds a place for me stay later on today, that is."

Without so much as a glance back at them, she placed a cover over a simmering pot on the stove before turning and making her way out of the kitchen area. Ryce was in no way, shape, or form oblivious to the thoughtful looks crossing the Titans' faces as she left the room. Only once she had entered the hallway and was out of their sight, did she turn her head back. That sly smile broke out over her face again as she pulled a strip of paper from the front of her shirt, unfolding the scrap gingerly to reveal the 10 names. With an air of triumph she produced a pen and crossed 'Morgue,' 'Beast Boy,' 'Terra,' and 'Cyborg' off the list and scribbled 'breakfast' next to them.

"4 down…6 to go."

* * *

It was only an hour or so after finishing his own breakfast that Nigel was making his way back to his medical bay. As good as the feast he had found awaiting in the kitchen had been, any of the good humor it had provided him with was slowly seeping away as he thought of the task awaiting him. Inventory and a thorough sterilization of all his equipment. It was hard to keep the frustration of it all under wraps, considering less than a week ago he had already completed this chore. But mere days and one geographically inappropriate game of "stank ball" later, he found himself with numerous broken or missing supplies. Even worse than this, was that he was left with a work area that bore the aroma of sweat sock gone putrid and no doubt crawled with the bacteria associated with it. Focusing on being done before the 1 o'clock meeting Tim and reminded them of when they left training earlier that morning, ("We will take a vote if it will make you all happy…but her staying has to be unanimous.") he opened the door to said work area and braced himself for the smell.

Except there was no smell. And the window that the ball of near rotting clothing had shattered had a brand new sheet of glass in its frame. Confusion reigned over the blacktrinian as he slowly made his way through the room. The fresh sterile scent, the lack of broken equipment and glass, a quick survey showed his cabinet not only undented but organized first alphabetically and then by dosage. For a moment he tried to remember doing it himself. While the "stank ball" incident had been a few days prior, he had only now found the time to actually get around to tidying up what was wrecked. A glance at the desk found an order form to replace what was needed and a note that alleviated his confusion.

_Hey Nigel…not sure what died in here but I'm going to figure it has something to do with Gar, Vic, and/or Rob. Thought I'd lend a hand so long as I'm here. ~ Ryce_

_P.S. I talked to your supplier when I did the order and they decided to cut his rate by 10 percent. _

Somewhere in the Tower, Ryce didn't need to see the smile to know to cross 'Scalpel' off the list.

* * *

The halls were quiet come 10 o'clock. Deathly silent and still. It appeared safe…it appeared empty. Slowly, a flicker of dark shadow appeared hovering in the air. From this glimmer of black, emerged a face, cautiously poking out, peering around the stillness and silence. Down the hall…up the hall…from one side to the next…she moved with the vigilant alertness of a bird of prey.

The coast was clear, and so the rest of the violet haired woman removed itself from its sheen of black, phasing into being. A book was safely tucked under one arm. A quick trip to the kitchen was her mission…grab the tea and get out before any of her teammate's descended upon her. It would be simple and how she relished the idea of spending the next few hours in peaceful meditation and quiet reading. Soon enough, Tim would return from his meeting with the chief of police, and soon enough they themselves would be meeting to put to rest the 5-foot tall, blond issue meandering around their tower. Until then, she planned to finally relax. Yes…a quick trip to the kitchen and then…

"Raven!"

Damn…

As per usual however, Starfire seemed oblivious to the ill amused look that had crossed over her friend's face as she appeared – as if from no where. She had civilian clothing on, a purple hoodie and jeans. Instantly, Raven could feel a frown tugging at her lips. Civilian clothing meant Star wanted to go somewhere. Civilian clothing meant going somewhere that was away from this book. Most importantly, civilian clothing meant a steady stream of Tamaranean badgering until Raven finally conceded to going wherever it was Kory wanted to go. Kory merely smiled her friendliest grin in response to the frown.

"Raven, I have been searching for you. Would you be pleased to travel to the mall of shopping with me? They have a new store for your favorite dried leaf and dehydrated fruit beverage!"

Raising a single eyebrow, Raven stared back asking, "You want to go to buy tea with me. Is this is your only reason for wanting to visit the mall?"

"And to spend time with you dearest friend!"

Not buying it for a moment, Raven said, "Uh-huh…and this has nothing to do with a book signing concerning borderline pedophilic, twinkling sexual predators in the guise of vampires of any kind."

"…um…"

Bingo, the empath thought, before turning away to continue towards the kitchen without another word. After so many years, however, she knew it was not going to be that easy. As if cued, Starfire once again popped up into her field of vision, eyes pleading. Already, Raven could feel her resolve starting to crumble. If nothing else, perhaps she'd be able to get this over with quickly. An image of the babbling and squealing masses they would encounter bubbled up into her mind's eye. Even a second of that would be an eternity.

"Oh please friend Raven…we will be quick in our visit."

"No."

"But…"

"Kory, you will sooner see Noel and Robert skip down this hallway holding hands, and singing, 'Let the Sunshine In,' right before they braid each others' hair, than you will see me going to the mall with you for anything Twilight related."

"Ya know I actually _have_ seen that…it's kind of cute in a really, REALLY unnerving way," a voice quipped from behind them both. It caught Raven by surprise, just barely suppressing the small jump that tried to ripple through her. Glancing back with an ill amused stare, she found the petite blond they currently were housing standing behind her, grinning widely at the two Titans. For a moment she was struck by a sense of familiarity…something in the mannerisms. Kory was returning the smile with equal, if not slightly bemused, enthusiasm. Instantly, Raven felt a wave of relief wash over her, glad the girl's presence was temporary. With this habit of sneaking up on people – intentional or not – she really doubted she could get used to the not there-ness Ryce seemed to emanate. For all the ill and confused stares she was receiving, Ryce was oblivious, perhaps by choice.

"What's Twilight?" she asked, her attention now solely on Kory. In turn, the orange skinned woman's face morphed into shocked – though polite – incredulity.

"You do not know the wonder that is _**Twilight**_?!" Star asked eyes wide and jaw agape. All she received in return was a shrug of the shoulders and a slight tilt of the head.

"Yea…genocidal sibling…world hopping…two years...kind of hard to keep up. The only pop culture I know is who won American Idol last year. And the only reason I know that is because my father kept badgering me to text in his votes."

It was Raven's turn to cast a disbelieving stare on the other demi human, "…Your father watches American Idol?"

"Religiously. He and the twins – my twin brothers, that is – were sorely disappointed when Adam Lambert didn't win. Dad wanted to come down and make the 'skinny, man-child from Conway' cry. Managed to convince him it was an abuse of his position," Ryce said, ignoring the deadpanned stare Raven was casting her along with the slight frown on Kory's face.

"…I liked the 'skinny man-child from Conway,'" Star pointed out quietly from behind her.

"His words Kor…not mine," managed to wipe the mildly wounded look off of the alien's face once more. Raven was not so easily put at ease however, flatly mumbling out.

"The more you tell us about your father the more I'm convinced we are all screwed in the end."

"…Gokey fan eh?"

"…What?"

Another smile and shrug, "You and Adam could have a long talk about that actually…he doesn't seem to like m'dad either. Never mind…so Twilight?"

Cut off quickly by Star's enthusiastic explanation, Raven did not have time to question the name drop. Instead, she assumed it coincidence. She did, however, finally notice the accent Gauntlet had so eagerly pointed out earlier, lingering in certain words as if she had forgotten to suppress it. It didn't take long for this train of thought to be cut short. Raven set her eyes to rolling, as her hyperactive teammate tried to put into words her ungodly-awful, new interest.

"Surely, my new friend, you would love it! It is a marvelous, fantasy novel wrought with danger, romance, and adventure! There is such heart…such soul…such-"

"Such garbage," Raven interrupted, no longer able to listen to the praises. Ignoring the frown Starfire granted her, she turned to Ryce, "It is a book series, targeted at young adults and teens, that reads like badly written fanfiction. It boils down to romanticizing an abusive relationship between a teenaged female – in possession of little to no personality – with a much older, possibly bipolar, and violent man who stalks her and breaks into her home while she sleeps…but it has vampires. Vampires that _**sparkle**_."

A few moments of silence – heavily awkward silence – before a frowning, and perhaps even slightly glaring, Kory finally sighed, "Raven…does not enjoy it. There is no abuse. If she'd come to the mall of shopping with me I can show he-"

"I do not see skipping teammates Star…nor do I see braided hair…"

"But..."

A cough cut her off, the pleading tone already clear in just that one word, nipped in the bud. The disappointed green eyes cast down to the source of the cough to find Ryce tilting her head to the side. Glancing slightly upwards at the older woman, Ryce shrugged her shoulders before speaking, "Well Star…I'm not doing anything if you're just looking for company."

All the disappointment bled from Kory's face. Soon enough, the jubilance typical of her character returned, almost in ten fold as a grin ripped out across her face. With a quick clap of her hands she floated upwards, levitating a few inches from the ground, before she darted back towards her room trailing a neon green glow and with a fleeting shout of, "Glorious!"

And thus, as quickly as she had been shanghaied, Raven found herself off the hook, alone in the hall except for the amused teenager beside her. Part of her breathed a sigh of relief; somehow she'd been freed from her typical task. And yet, just as part of her was thankful, the rest of her called for a suspicious glance to the person saving her from two hours of badgering in the name of friendship. Shifting her attention to the blond with the beginnings of a frown, Raven instantly found a steaming and aromatic cup being held beneath her nose. A quick look up found a wide grin and a set of mismatched eyes glimmering behind the slightly thick frames perched on Ryce's nose. It didn't take long for her to recognize the very favorite tea she had been traveling to the kitchen to make. It also didn't take her long to realize who she was being reminded of with the constant smiling.

"You're a friend of Metatron aren't you?"

"It's the smiling right? He rubs off on you after awhile. So he comes here too? Good…I haven't seen him so long…was hoping to run into him soon."

Raven just stared at her blank faced as Ryce raised the steaming cup a bit more.

"Tea?"

"You're a bit of a kiss-ass aren't you?"

"Where I'm from you either kiss ass or get yours handed to you. Besides, I prefer the terminology 'charismatically manipulative.' Either way I'm going to be the one spending the next hour or so with Kory squealing over whatever this Twiblahblahblah is…and **you** can do as you please…until you all vote on the length of my stay here at 1 o'clock,du that is. After that? You can go back to be badgered daily about 'the mall of shopping' or 'earthly nail lacquers' right when you're trying to read that Lovecraft book you've got tucked under your arm."

Flashing her smile a little wider, Ryce handed off the cup. There was a look on her face akin to slight triumph. No doubt sensing the wheels turning in the empath as she considered what she was saying. Ryce wasn't given much time to bask in this amusement and victory. As she opened her mouth to say more, a green streak ripped through the hall again, dragging her swiftly away. Star seemed to somehow ignore the strangled hack Ryce let out. But then, Star always ignored that when depriving another being of oxygen. In the end Raven was left to stare, contemplating, at the cup of tea in her hand. A quick sip found it to indeed be made perfectly.

Damn…

* * *

12 o'clock…one more hour to go.

Savior broke away from his staring at his watch. He had made a point to avoid the girl wandering about the tower (a troublesome fact he had brought up with Robin earlier that morning…why exactly were they not confining her with SOME thought to security?). Mostly, he assumed the avoidance was to simply not have to hear the apology she felt she needed give in regards to the alleyway incident. If he hadn't been so impatient and…well, maybe it was easier to say if he hadn't been himself…she, more likely than not, would have come to the Tower without a peep. Instead, his way of handling it resulted in her panicking and nearly collapsing her skull. Yet, she wanted to offer a request for forgiveness. Unbeknownst to him, he echoed Cyborg's earlier sentiments as he thought her a very strange kid.

But there was something else, too. Something else was calling up his suspicions and in turn calling for him to make a conscious effort to NOT run into her. That reason was the odd gleam the very hallways of their tower seamed to have taken on. It was the lack of clutter and debris that had, just last night, littered throughout the place. What is she up to, he thought, wandering towards the kitchen to grab something of sustenance. It was not so much the sudden cleaning that made him wary, as it was the reasoning behind it. Crossing over the doorway, he saw that the kitchen was no different. Cleaned to a polish he had perhaps NEVER seen there…and over that sterile cleanliness, came a sweet smell. The scent brought him to his next point of contention. Maybe even further amongst his suspicions than the cleaning, was all the…

"Noel…brownies. Must try."

…the cooking. Already, he could see that their was a lunch set out, just as overzealously done as the breakfast had been. Even if he hadn't noticed it, the rest of the evidence was currently being shoved under his nose in the form of several dozen, still warm, brownies covered in powder sugar. Above the plate hovered the awestruck looking face of Beast Boy, who appeared to have two or three clutched in the hand not balancing the plate. Noel merely raised an eyebrow at his enthusiasm, as the changeling shoved one of them into his still grinning mouth.

"Who made these?" he asked as if he didn't already know.

Gar seemed to grin wider at this and pulled the plate of baked goods back away from Savior's face a fraction. Fortunately, the green shifter thought to swallow the wad of chocolate goo, before opening his mouth to respond, "Ryce! Forget death godling…the girl is like…a culinary GODDESS. You should see what she made us for-"

"How long have you known her, Gar? Do you think you should just indiscriminately shove food she gives you down your throat?" Noel interrupted casting a distrustful look down at the plate of brown baked goods.

Instantly Gar's face fell from his smile. With a slow shake if his head, he sighed, "…only you could be suspicious of brownies. Delicious-Delicious brownies, made as a 'thank you' by a really nice girl."

"'A really nice girl' who shot about 2 dozen spines into your face less than 24 hours ago."

"Must you suck the joy out of everything?" Gar sighed, placing the plate on a counter, helping him self to one more as he did so. Looking to avoid his less than exuberant teammate, he made his way towards the doorway, popping a piece of chocolate-y goodness into his mouth as he did so. Silent until now, from the table, Sophie cast Savoir an amused expression as she continued to eat her own lunch.

"You're certainly a 'Debbie Downer' today."

"Does anyone ELSE remember what happened the last time you all ate baked goods given to you by strange, seemingly 'nice' people?" Noel asked.

"There are three people who can hear your right now, Noel. Myself, Tara, and yourself. None of which were here for the Mother Mae-Eye incident. Bad example," Sophie pointed out, suppressing a smile at his withering look.

"That doesn't mean that-"

A groan ripped up from the other room, effectively cutting off whatever his next complaints were going to be. Seconds later, Terra poked her head around the corner and shot him an exasperated look, "Oh my god, Noel…just eat a god damn brownie before your self righteous angst and suspicion of any and all things warm and fuzzy leaks all over the carpet again."

With this said, she disappeared around the corner again, loudly muttering and grumbling on the way. Savoir could only frown at the spot her head once occupied, already turning to walk once more out of the kitchen and through the hall. Enough was enough. Time to figure out what their little 'fan' was pulling. The trick now was to find where she was currently hiding out.

There was a crinkling sound coming from beneath his foot, suddenly. Looking down and lifting said foot, revealed a white square of paper lying crumpled and slightly crushed on the hallway floor. Under normal circumstance, he probably would have simply picked up the trash, balled it up and thrown in unceremoniously into the garbage. He may have yet done it still, if it had not unfolded slightly once free of his weight. In doing so, it revealed sketchy, feminine, but most of all familiar handwriting at the top. Handwriting which read 'Savior.'

Picking it up, he unfolded the wrinkled sheet to find it a mess of notes, scribbles, and their aliases, hastily scrawled comments littering the margins, nonsensical doodles in the corners. But mostly? Mostly, it was the names that caught his eye. Everyone's name had been scratched out save for himself, Robin, and Gauntlet. Furthermore, everyone's name had a note next to it. Raven's said, 'Tea and Star stand-in', where as Starfire's was labeled, 'Twilight…WTF?' 'Rx/Grocery,' was the final individual comment placed next to Scalpel. The other four were encompassed under the category of 'Breakfast.'

Finally, it was starting to click into place. Just as he was refolding the paper and placing it into his pocket he heard music. Nearly muffled sounds, drifting down the hall from a closed door at its end. He instantly recognized its origin as their training room, the muted sound getting loud as he came closer. With a turn of the latch, the door swung open and the meta was promptly bombarded with the blasting guitar chords and riffs.

She was dancing.

No…that wasn't right…maybe rhythmically flailing would probably be a better term.

With a mop in one had, and what appeared to be a spray bottle in the other, their 'guest' was swaying and rocking out to the radio she had placed into the corner of the room. Surprisingly, despite having her eyes closed for most of the time and using the mop handle as an imaginary microphone stand as she danced about it, she was not doing too bad a job of mopping down the floor. In fact, Noel gave the room a quick once over, with less than an half an hour since her and Star's return from the mall, she had managed to completely scour and reorganize the entire training area. He couldn't help but wonder at the feat, considering some of the training weights probably weighed twice as much as she did. It didn't take long for his concentration to break…now she was singing along, still completely oblivious to the fact he was standing there.

_"__It's been too long since I left the shed,  
You kick the bucket and I'll swing my legs"_

Pleasant song, he thought finally entering the room, gracing her back with an unimpressed stare. Still, the teenager remained blissfully unawares as she dropped the spray bottle and pointed to – what he could only assume was – an imaginary crowd.

_"Always remember the pact that we made,  
Too young to die but old is the grave"_

She finally opened her eyes, but she was facing the other way. Her attention was caught by something. Concentrated intently upon the one corner of the room's ceiling. He followed her gaze, and found a small collection of cobwebs forming at the focal point of her stare. Furthermore, he saw a chair nearby it and cringed, knowing what was mere seconds away from happening. Noel could actually already picture it in his mind's eye

"_18, balding, star."_

As if following a written script of his thought pattern, Ryce, in time with the music, jumped on top of the chair. With a single fluid movement, still using the momentum of her jump, her feet were up on top of the chair's thin back. The same motion included her driving the damp end of the mop towards the dead center of said cobwebs.

_Golden, fallen, hea- _SHIT!"

She got the cobwebs…she also overbalanced on the chair's back and went flying face first unto the training room floor when it tipped over. It made a lovely smacking thud. Went brilliantly well with the cheerful sounding guitar still blaring in the background and the whimpered out, "Owwwww." With a shake of his head, Savior stepped over her as he crossed the room, flicking the stereo's power button. The room plunged back into a slightly ringing silence, except for the mildly pained groan coming from the heap of teenaged girl on the ground. Slowly, propping herself up unto one elbow, Ryce glanced over at him and offered up a slightly sarcastic smile.

"Ya know…the polite thing to do when someone's making an ass out of himself or herself it to let them know you're watching them do it."

Staring down at her with a raised eye brow for a moment, before extending a hand to help her off the floor, he asked "What are you doing?"

The look he received as she pulled herself back up was one of pure innocence. It was good, believable even, "Me? I passed by the room and it looked a lil' messed up so I thought I'd help. Ya know…keep myself busy and out of the way. By the way, do you have anything else that needs to go in the washing machine? Threw a load in and I'm going to switch in another soon."

She was good…very good in fact, he thought. He offered her a thin smile, a look that clearly called 'BS' on the act. He had a hand in his jacket pocket as he nodded, playing along, "Hm…and I suppose you are doing this all out of the kindness of your heart right?"

"Well it wasn't the kindness of my spleen. Nothing wrong with being," as she prattled on with that sarcastic, yet charming, smile, he removed the list from his pocket to dangle in front of her face, "selfleeeehehehe…where did you find that?"

He watched her face slip from one of confidence to a sheepish and guilty smile. Her ears were bright red. Check mate, he thought with a kindless smile, "Cut the crap."

For a few second she stood stock still, face still twisted into that awkward and shamed grin. Eyes finally switched away from the list and locked back onto his face. Again, her face melted back into that ever so slightly cocky grin. He could see the wheel turning calmly behind her eyes, thinking of her next move. When she spoke all the nervous tension had bled out of her voice "Fine…it's hardly as sinister as you think. Therefore, I will answer your question with one of my own. When was the last time you got laid Collins?"

…

The charms of teenagers…he really should have known better. Despite his lack of reaction though, it was perhaps not what he had been expecting. Obviously, she picked up on this when she responded to his unamused stare with a smirk.

"Please, I hardly think your sensibilities are so delicate that I need to use some sort of euphemism."

"You do realize that any intelligence you're trying to portray by using the word 'euphemism,' is completely negated when following a sentence ending in 'got laid.'"

She shrugged at his swipe, it rolling off her shoulders like water. Instead of countering with any level of defensiveness, she walked slightly away from him, "Perhaps…it's strictly a hypothetical question anyway. You don't actually have to nor do I want you to answer. 'Getting laid' is just a metaphor. You could replace it with 'read a book' or 'watch a movie' or even 'scratch your own ass,' for all I care.

"It all comes back to the same thing," she called over her shoulder at him, placing the cleaning supplies back into a wall closet, "You people run yourselves into the ground, day in and day out for the citizenry of Jump…sometimes for half the country – half the world even. It's one of the reasons I find you guys so interesting."

Looking at her from behind, it was not hard for him to see that the tips of her ears were bright red again. In fact, they were almost purple now, betraying the cool and mildly sarcastic exterior she was putting up. He couldn't help but think, I really wished she'd stop doing that. As if reading his mind, a slim hand reached up and tugged the tie out of her hair, allowing it to cover the tell tale sign of her embarrassment.

"Yea, yea, yea…stop the fangasming I know. I'm trying…it's easier said than done, ya know? Anywho, what I'm saying is…just because you've all taken it upon yourselves to be the city's night-light against all the big bads and little bads lurking in the shadows doesn't mean you shouldn't have some semblance of a life to yourselves in the off hours. A life that doesn't revolve mundane, menial things either, like laundry, and cooking, and getting the potato from Vic's 'baked potato cannon' out of the wall. Some time to pursue things that have nothing to do with daily chores or being 'super heroes'…that can't be your ONLY identity. That's called being one dimensional. Hell, even 'Bats' used to make his way through the beds of the lovely ladies of the 'Victoria's Secret Christmas Calendar' in his spare time as Bruce Wayne…and Batman's so intense that he makes you look like Adam with a ball of yarn."

By now, Noel was begrudging listening. It was hard to counter. As much as he did not (and he really DID NOT) want to admit it, the blond had a point. The same smirk that she had graced his girlfriend with earlier was curling across her face. That grin that wordlessly said, with an evil little giggle, 'Ryce wins.' It was an intensely annoying expression, he thought as she simply shrugged her shoulders, slowly backing out of the room.

"I really don't think I can spell my intentions out any more clearly than that. I like to cook, Noel. Even more so, since none of the people here are replacing my ingredients with flesh dissolving acid. I don't mind cleaning. So…as long as I'm here, why not help? Make what you will of it. If having free time to read a book or watch television," and he could not miss the sly smirk curling up the corners of her mouth – stupid hormonal teenager, "Or just spending a lil 'quality time' with 'someone,' bothers you that much…you can all vote me off the island and I'll be gone by tonight. Your choice."

And then she was gone. The training room door swung open on her exit and clicked softly shut behind her, leaving him alone. It was then he remembered that Tim had requested earlier that morning that he clean the very room he was standing in. After breaking open that punching bag, it had only been right that he be the one to clean it up Tim had said. The bag was back up on its reinforced chain. The sand was off the floor. And for the first time in perhaps weeks Noel had nothing to do.

…it had been a lot easier to think she was stupid kid.

* * *

The curled, quasi Cheshire Cat-esque, grin was still on her face several minutes later. Now, with a laundry basket tucked under one arm, she made her way down the hall, humming with good humor and delight. A draft like breeze ruffled her hair for a moment as she strolled. The grin on her face, in fact, grew wider as it happened. Today had, more or less, gone perfectly…less than an hour to go…and not a single thing had gone…

"Come here often?"

…wrong. The grin fell off her face, instantly. She supposed 'had,' was in fact the operative word. She didn't bother to cast the other blond the withering glance, her mind was calling for,

"What do you want, Rob?"

He was grinning at her now, coming up beside her. Painfully obvious in her avoidance of looking at him, it was somehow lost on Gauntlet. Instead, he shook his head, and put an arm around her shoulders as they walked. There was an indulgent, confident clicking sound for a moment before he spoke.

"Ryce, Ryce, Ryce…drop the 'grr' act with me…no one's around. We both know the _real_ reason you've come here."

She raised an eyebrow at this. Perhaps she had missed something, "…to keep my genocidal brother from killing you all?"

With a dismissive wave, he shook his head, "No…that's just a plot device. C'mon, drop the coy 'I have a boyfriend' act."

"Wow…just when I thought you couldn't be more obnoxious, you rise to the occasion…congratulations. I'll bake you a cake later," she mumbled, trying to twitch her shoulder and remove his arm from it. It was all she could do, with her arms full of laundry basket. It was in vain, really.

"Hey! That's cold. You barely know me…for all you know I could be completely dashing…suave…debonair even!"

Her only response was to let out a small growl and shoot him a glare and a clear look of her pointier teeth, "You know how coyotes will chew a limb off to get out of a trap? I'm going to use _your _arm instead in about 5 seconds."

That did it, at least. Free of his arm she sped up a bit, hoping he would take the hint and go away. He didn't of course…and further seemed to aggrieve her by opening, and then holding open, the laundry room door for her. Blankly staring at the smile he was beaming down, at her she sighed.

"Gauntlet…let me make this clear. No. No interest. None…zilch…nada…NO," with a heave, she dropped the heavy basket on top of the dryer, before turning back to him with a frown, "Now, please, go away."

Expectation was that he would deflate completely and slink from the room in defeat. This would leave her in peace to finish her chore, in quiet. Therefore, when he gave her a slightly maniacal smile and shook his head, she was left with nothing to say or do in response. Apparently, this went according with his own plan because he took her silence as a cue to continue

"No, sorry but no…because you see…I'm tired of this. I'm tired of being_ that guy_. Comic relief? Fine. Even though THAT'S been stolen from me too. Sexual pariah? Not fine. This is obviously a sign! No more jokes about impotency…no more hidden or not so hidden innuendos about me and my hard-ass spectrum opposite – pun most certainly **NOT** intended. I deserve a love interest, because I cannot be the romantically intimate leper of the Tower for the rest of this series."

Rolling her eyes, she began sorting through the laundry basket, placing some of the pieces on top of the washer, "It is not _my problem_ that you could walk around a whore house with a 100 dollar bill sticking out of your fly, and still come out a virgin."

"It's not my fault that Vic told them I had my fun bits removed in a tragic snow blower incident! They just stole the money and ra...I mean…I'd never do something like that…ever. Wait…What make you think I'm a virgin!?"

Men were so easy to upset, she thought. Ryce really didn't try very hard to hold the snicker in. Though, she did feel a bit bad when she saw his face and sobered up away from giggling at his expense or experience. The slightly hurt, offense fled away from of his expression, replaced with a quiet determination. Perhaps, bordering on desperate.

"Fate owes me. The author owes me…"

"The Author? You want kindness from **her**? You _are_ delusional," she tried to interject as she went back to her sorting. Rob seemed to no longer be listening, fastening his hands onto her upper arms, and spinning her in place to face him

"She owes me! After last time!? Remember last time she tried this?" he cried out, beginning to shake her by the upper arms slightly, and ignoring the rather blank look she was giving him. Beginning to ramble, he was building up steam…frenzied steam even.

"Noel Collins' spawn, who let's face it, was just a poorly done, two-dimensional, genderbent Savoir who after abusing everyone around her goes crazy and DIES!? Where EVERYONE just dies!? WHERE THERE IS ZERO HOPE!? What the hell is wrong with this woman?! That's how desperate she makes me!? That's the bone she throws me?! It's sick! She's sick! Even canon-me gets some in the other universes! Nu-uh! Nein! Neit! Survey say EEH! No soup for you! You are cute, and seem to be quasi-mentally balanced, and this time it's Gauntlet's turn! It has to be! This time I don't stand idly by and allow her to torture me! I am taking a stand and I don't care if I have to break through the fourth wall myself and declare war on-"

So intent on madly shaking her, on raving about the offenses – real or imagined – committed against him by the author, he had just barely enough time to see the large war hammer swinging his way to mutter, "Eep." Then? Then there was connection, merely a clip. But a clip from an enchanted and ancient relic…well…it is a clip from an _**enchanted**_ and _**ancient relic. **_He was sent crashing straight out of laundry room door and then through the fourth wall he had just been planning a targeted assault on. It made a lovely crashing noise. I enjoyed it at least.

Back on the Tower side of the destroyed wall, the disheveled and wide eyed girl he'd been shaking just stared at the crumbling plaster. From beyond it, she could hear Rob groaning. With a wince, she turned her head to the side to glance up to the rather aggravated looking X. Anger and confusion fighting for dominance on his face; he in turn shot her a look of mixed concern and annoyance. There was nothing more to do, other than shrug at him. The concern lost miserably in its battle with annoyance. Without another word, he blinked out of existence with a crack of purple light. Ryce took the opportunity to creep forward, and not only close, but lock the laundry room door behind her.

Finally alone, she went back to her task, sparing the watch on her wrist a brief look as she took the now empty basket off the dryer, and placed it on the floor. Hm…twenty minutes until they meet, she thought to herself. There was no point in dwelling upon the possible outcome though. She had done all she could to convince them of her usefulness. Create a demand and supply them as such. Now, all that was left was to wait and keep herself busy. So, she opened the dryer door, intent on checking to see if those towels she'd tossed in were done. Well, that is, she would have checked if not for finding a set of glowing yellow eyes hovering in the dark when she opened the latch.

"AH!" she screamed in surprise, tripping over the laundry basket as she backpedaled and falling into it and unto her backside. Heart hammering, she watched as out of the shadows, the eyes floated. Soon enough light casted over them, and the face to which they were attached came into sight. If not for the throbbing pain pulsing in her coccyx right now, she may have found humor in the fact that he had a sock clinging to his black, gold streaked hair via static. Even with the pain though, the grin was a comfort.

"Hi there!"

"Adam, don't do that! You scared the crap out of me," she said, one hand rubbing her abused posterior, "How do you even fit in there?"

Metatron responded with his characteristic giant grin, "I'm a Sliveen!"

"No, you're not. Get out of the dryer."

"Noooooo…it's warm in here…and quite cozy! Wanna join me? It's an excellent place to nap!"

"No I don't and even if I did I wouldn't fit," she said while shaking her head. Yet, as she had earlier said to Raven, the grin quickly rubbed off on her.

Metatron, head tilting slightly to the side in observation, quipped, "Well, not with THAT attitude you won't…you're not sleeping again."

Even with the contagious grin still beaming at her, Ryce frowned. He always managed to know. Probably didn't help that she was sure the rings under her eyes had to be back. She brushed his concern off with a shrug and let a small smile come back to her lips

"Yea…I didn't have time to grab that thing you gave me before I came here…I'm working on it."

"Ah…wanna go for smoothies?"

"Met …busy…"

"Busy being manipulative?"

"What else?" she replied, the small soft smile becoming, at once, a sly grin.

It seemed to amuse him and with a nod he retreated back into the dark of the dryer, "Well, then carry on! Could you close the door, please?"

With a laugh and a shaking head she complied, clicking it shut.

* * *

Beyond the locked door, back into the decimated hallway, Gauntlet stumbled out of the destruction. A fine white dusting of plaster was coating him from head to toe. Observing the damage he let out a low whistle.

"Robin's not gonna be happy…"

He was of course correct. And therefore, he was going to fix the wall.

"Oi! It was your damn character that put me through it in the first place!"

Fix the wall, Candide.

"I object to this story line! On the grounds that it is not fair and you are incredibly MEAN."

Kid, keep whining and you'll be a eunuch making a crown of daises in a field before the close of this chapter.

"…Objection withdrawn!"

Good boy.

* * *

The time had come. Robin watched them scribble down their votes. After five aggravating minutes of back and forth regarding the rules, ("Anonymous and unanimous guys…take it or she just goes now.") they had finally gathered around their kitchen table. It was pointless really. If nothing else, he had, with out so much as a blink, scrawled out 'No.' Along with that, he had at least 2 others who had not succumbed to complete and utter lunacy.

Quietly, they passed back their papers. Soon enough, Starfire – who sat with an oddly solemn nature next to him – handed him the neatly stacked and promptly shuffled pile. His fingers brushed her own as he took them, and he could not help but look up and lock eyes with her. Sad, green eyes that were saying without a doubt, 'This is most unfair.' God, he hated that look. Of course, he would be able to make her understand in time. Noel and Raven could help. So, without another word, he began counting the votes.

One 'No.' His own, coincidently. Then? Another 'No,' he didn't know the handwriting though. Of course the next 'Yes' was not completely unexpected. Nor was the next. But the one after that was a little odd. The one after that stopped being odd and started grating his nerves. So when the next five also said yes…well…it wasn't exactly a pleasant word that dropped out of his mouth at first.

"Have you all lost your minds!?" he called out staring at the table in wonder.

"What is wrong, Tim?" Star questioned in that still completely innocent, but now confused voice.

"There's only 2 'No' votes!" Robin growled out shooting them all glares. From across the table, Raven raised an eyebrow at his reaction.

"Weren't we _**not**_ going to announce this?" she asked.

"Are Raven and I seriously the only SANE ones left?" Tim asked throwing up his hands

"…and weren't we doing anonymous voting," Raven continued, "Since that has gone by the by, I voted 'yes' Tim."

"Fine! Noel and I are the only sane ones. Not that it matters it's not unanimous…"

"What? Dude, c'mon! It's a landslide; we should at least TALK about it." Gar called out over Tim's complaints. Sophie nodded beside him, "He's right, Tim. You and Noel are the ONLY ones who said no and we should be able to argue our cas-"

This time, it was Noel who raised an interrupting hand, clearing his throat slightly, "Actually…I voted for her to stay as well."

Silence descended upon the table, as the rest of his teammates – including his own girlfriend – shot him looked of confusion and disbelief. After a few seconds of the awkward staring, and the even more awkward glaring they received back, Gauntlet leaned over and began looking him over, as if searching for something.

"What are you doing?" Noel asked, leaning away from his stare.

"Checking you for a brain slug," he replied reaching over to poke at the gravity-defying, white hair. His hand was smacked away quickly enough. Before Tim could return to the indignant questioning of their mental health, Nigel cut in.

"Before we begin discussing this, perhaps we should invite her to sit at the table…since both she and Met are eavesdropping in the lower cabinets."

Currently maskless, Tim's eyes widened a bit, before he swiveled around in his chair. Instantly, the cabinet below the sink glowed black before swinging open to reveal the subject of their vote. Beside her, one Adam 'Metatron' Matthews, was grinning and waving at the lot of them. A quick deer in headlights look crossed the girl's face, before she quickly pointed to the chaosling beside her.

"…This was all his idea."

"Get out of there," Tim said with a glare. Both gave a nodded, the much shorter Ryce crawling out from it first, followed by Met. Now, standing beside the table, Ryce gave what Robin imagined she thought to be a charming smile. Once again, Tim was interrupted, this time by Met.

"Do I get a vote to? I vote 'Yes,'" he said.

Across the table Vic was staring at the two in confusion, before he asked "Do you two know each other or something?"

"Of course! Ryce is my companion," Met said with a goofy grin, wrapping and arm around her shoulders. Ryce made no effort to remove it as she had Gauntlet's, which Rob noticed in annoyance. Oblivious, she smirked as she nodded, "He kidnaps me every so often…usually ends with me running for my life or my being utterly humiliated."

"Oh, you love it. Remember Wallaby? God, I miss him."

There was a moment's hesitation on her part before she gave a weak sounding, "…Yea…"

Met seemed to not notice, as he continued to wax nostalgic, "It was nice of you to take him to that farm that time I got stuck in Brazil. Didn't know they had kangaroo farms in New Jersey."

Confused looks all around the table. Vic took the initiative once more and pointed out, "There is no 'kangaroo farm' in Jersey, Met..."

"Of course there is! Ryce took him to-" and it was only then he noticed the fact that Ryce was putting a lot of effort into looking very uncomfortable as she stared at the floor, "…Oh god…there's no farm. YOU ATE HIM! You ate Wallaby!"

Guilty sounding, she muttered, shuffling her feet a bit, "We had no food…I was hungry."

"CANNIBAL!"

"Cannibal? He was a bloody kangaroo."

"How long have I known you? Do I _**really**_ know you aren't a kangaroo?"

"You've known me for awhile Met-…wait…what?"

"So…is he the boyfriend?"

Both stopped, at the new voice. Glancing over at Gauntlet, both the demon and angel looked at him like he had suddenly sprouted a mini Lord of the Night out of his neck. As if to prove his point, Gauntlet gestured to the arm still on Ryce's shoulder.

"You said you had a boyfriend last night, is Meta-"

Both Ryce and Met stared at him incredulously, as if it was the dumbest thing they'd ever heard, simultaneously laughing and saying, "No." Afterwards, Met looked back over at her. All thought of her consumption of his friend, the kangaroo, seemed gone. In fact, it seemed it never happened, as he raised an eyebrow and smiling in mock confusion asked, "When'd you get a boyfriend?"

"Ix-nay on the Oyfriend-bay if you don't want me to lock you in a freezer," she hissed back softly enough for only his ears.

"Well that's just rude!" Met shouted, though his expression remained insanely amused and he laughed as he did so.

"Ya know what would be great? If you two both stopped talking. Please?" came the muttering from a still confused and annoyed Gauntlet. Nodding in agreement, Robin pointed across the table where several empty chairs sat.

"Both of your sit at the table and pretend to be normal. It appears that the rest of the team wants to argue in favor of your staying with us, Ryce. I said unanimous…but considering it was 8 to 2…"

"9 to 2," Met pointed out.

With a signed, Tim corrected himself, "Fine…9 to 2. Obviously, you've made some sort of great impression on everyone while I was out. Who wants to start explaining their mental illness?"

"Have you tried the brownies?" Gar asked shifting a plate of the mentioned baked goods, which somehow had appeared as if from no where, towards Tim. A hand came down to block it's sliding, however. The hand belonging to Savoir, to be more specific. Pushing it back towards Beast Boy, he looked back to Tim, with perhaps a more substantial argument.

"Would you like to know what I did for the 40 minutes before you came back from your meeting? I had the time to myself…I read a few chapters of a book today, Tim."

And there was absolutely no way for him to miss the smirk on Ryce's face at this. No way to not see the tremble of her lips as she stifled a snicker. Recalling her incredibly, thinly veiled innuendo from earlier, he shot her a dark glare that rivaled The Bat.

"I can and will change my vote right now if you don't grow up," he snapped.

Sobering up a bit, she stopped, "Sorry…go on."

Once he was sure she was not going to descend into an immature fit of snickering, Savior continued, "As I was saying…I read several chapters in a book. Not several pages…not several words. I can't remember the last time I sat down and did something that did not involve saving some oblivious nitwit from the line of fire of a homicidal lunatic, or do something that involves keeping this Tower running. I should have been mopping down the training room. But I didn't have to. In fact, I didn't have to do anything. Somehow, someway this kid managed to clean this ENTIRE Tower by herself, in a few hours. I have no idea how she did it, but she did. We couldn't do that all together in a day, let alone a few hours."

Nigel nodded in agreement, "Tim, Ryce managed to negotiate our contract with the pharmaceutical companies down…she managed to get a discount from one of the most cut-throat, money-hungry entities in your world."

"And don't forget the cooking! I mean…how often do any of us come back from a call with the energy to cook? Not only would she do it for us….she's AMAZING at it," Gar said with Cyborg and Tara nodding enthusiastically along with him. Across from him, Tim could see Ryce fighting to keep a smile down…she was also blushing. He could also see that everyone else was looking at him expectantly. Well…everyone beside Met. He was making a paper airplane. Robin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he leaned back in his chair.

"So…what you're all asking, is that I change my vote…and what? The heir to 'Judgment after Death' will do our laundry and our dishes? The spawn of a god is going to be our live in maid and chef?"

"More or less," Ryce said with a grin. Tim could only shake his head. It was ludicrous…it was ridiculous. Mostly because it all made rather perfect sense. The brownie plate was shoved into his face again. There was no other choice. Popping one into his mouth he muttered, "Fine. Yes."

Ryce's face broke out into a massive grin as Tim heard his significant other give a cheer of victory. The rest of his team seemed pleased as well, though a bit more restrained in showing it. Already, Star was across the room and babbling about room décor to the grinning, if not bemused looking, newest member of their home. Above it all, someone was clapping, slowly and sarcastically. Kory's jabbering tampered off as she heard it, glancing over to its source. Gauntlet brought his hands together one final time, tilting his head to the side with a smile.

"Well this is all well and good…smiles all around…except for one lil, infinitesimal thing…as our illustrious leader said from the commencement of this darling exercise in democracy…it has to be unanimous."

Kory cast the blond a confused look, never seeing the outright stormy glare coming over Ryce's face. With a moment of hesitation the orange toned woman asked, "But Tim has changed his vote…is that not unanimous?"

Rob grinned, "Nope! There were TWO 'Don't let the door hit you on the way out' votes."

"Who else voted no then?" Sophie asked starting to feel equally confused. It didn't last long though. Where as neither she nor Star had noticed the dark look on Ryce's face, others had. Even those who had not didn't have to wait long as Ryce growled out across the table.

"You're a right wanker, Candide."

"You're a cute girl…a cute girl who cannot stand me, apparently. Why in the world would I vote yes to having yet ANOTHER girl who had zero interest in me stay in the Tower? It makes no sense."

A collective of shocked expression were cast in his direction. Noel broke their silence with a wave of his hand, "He's a dumbass and his vote doesn't count."

"Ah-ah-ah! That's not how it works, Dragonball Boy. My vote counts just as much as yours…and I vote 'No,'" Rob said leaning back in his chair a bit. He threw a side glance back at the slowly fuming angel girl, "However! I might be open to hearing a persuasive argument to reconsider my decision…perhaps you could convince me over dinner?"

His answer was a snarl, "I'd rather have someone drop me off a cliff…again."

At this, Met cocked his head to the side shooting her a, more likely than not, faux offended look, "Once! That happened once! I even took you to a hospital that time!"

Rob and Ryce did not appear to be listening, one too busy glaring and the other too busy grinning as obnoxiously as possible, "Well then…no datey, no votey…don't worry I'm sure the shelters down town are reasonably clean."

Met had continued on without prompting, "In fact you OWE me for that one! Remember the pudding they had for dessert? They had amazing pudding!"

There was no other response from Ryce. Instead she was staring, red faced and furious, mouth bobbling soundlessly, like a fish. After a few seconds of silence, Rob shrugged and stood from the table. It seemed he was holding true to his promise of taking a stand. Without another word, he turned and walked towards the hall.

That is, he would have if he didn't suddenly find a large hand gripping his face and lifting him right off the floor. X, also known to them as the Marine, had lifted him to his own eye level, glaring at him through one of his large fingers. Beneath the hand Rob managed to grin.

"Now ya see…even if the big guy crushes my face…I'm not gonna say yes."

Tara snapped, "Rob stop being a pain in ass and just change your vote."

The room may have descended back into an argument of chaos. It may have just been a good thirty minutes of back and forth nonsense. But at the table the black and gold haired youth had taken to poking Ryce, prodding her into action. Jaw clenched and eyes furious the blond teenager finally hissed out, "…fine."

"I want it in writing!" came the muffled reply from X's large hand.

"FINE! Alright!?"

At this, Met pulled out a piece of paper from no where, covered in small, cramped font. Ryce was confused to find that, for some reason unknown to her, he possessed what appeared to be a written contract for the occasion. After knowing him for as long as she had, she had learned not to question moments like these. Instead, she quickly scrawled out both her own name and Robert's in the blank spots before signing it at the bottom.

"There, you pain in the arse…are you happy?"

Rubbing the bruising sections of his face, Robert took the crisp piece of paper before sealing it in a thick white enveloped. For a moment he seemed about ready to respond…when a loud siren ripped through the air. A quick look down to their COMs was all it took. Instantly, the team was out of their chairs and making for the door. In the fury Ryce called after Tim.

"So…I can stay?"

"Yes. Don't touch anything while we're gone!"

And with that? It was suddenly over. Hours of manipulation and planning, and she was done…she was staying. Looking around, she also found she was alone. How anti-climatic, she thought with a shrug. With nothing else in mind, she stood and made her way to their fridge. Half way there, she smirked and lashed out a hand, gripping the countertop. As if from no where, a young man with brown hair appeared on the other side of her arm. Turning up towards him, a decidedly flirty grin curling up on her lips, Ryce faced him.

"Uh-uh-uh. What is our deal, Bart?"

Bart Allen could only grin widely and the girl. He had been a bit confused when his COM rang that morning, but her offer was so tempting, "I help you clean the Tower by noon + no one sees me + I keep my mouth shut = free pie for Bart!"

Ryce smiled wickedly at this with a nod. A flick of her hand and a glow of her left eye and the fridge popped open to reveal said pie, "Indeed it does! Thank you Bartholomew."

"Thank _you_ strange lady," in a flash, the pie was suddenly in the speedster's hands. He made to leave only to find her arm still in front of him. A questioning look down found the strange, yet rather cute girl, still grinning, head cocked to one side. She moved her arm slowly out of his way before walking past him, arm brushing his own.

"You should give me a call me sometime."

Forward _and_ kinda cute, he thought glancing over at her with a smirk, "Maybe I will."

And then he was gone. Suddenly, Ryce didn't feel like doing much of anything and returned to the table. Hands snatching up the Lovecraft book that Raven had left behind, she began to read quietly. Until a voice called out from behind her, breaking her concentration.

"Sneaky, sneaky…and you have no shame."

Ryce smirked not even bothering to look up at the familiar voice, "None what so ever. Keep your silence Adam, and that tureen of coffee with cream and sugar on the counter is yours."

"Hmm…the offer is tempting, brat…but still…"

"…and you get what's in the oven."

Curiosity claiming him instantly, he made his way to the appliance and flung the door open. On the second shelf sat a dozen croissants, just starting to turn a flaky golden brown. Back at the table, Ryce continued to smirk her 'Ryce wins' smirk, and went back to reading her book. For approximately 5 seconds that is. After that, a scream of "Moonbread!" was her only warning before a mass of black, gold, and pink had tackled her right off the chair and onto the kitchen floor with a cracking crash.

"…ow…"

* * *

**Author Notes:** Where to start….where to start? I'm sorry that this took so long I guess is a good place to start. The last eight pages of this chapter however were in fact the Devil.

At this, the author points over to the corner where a tiny Devil with giant sparkly eyes waves at the readers with a great big smile. People 'aw' at his little suit, horns, spaded tail, and sign that says "Hi My name is 'Last 8 Pages'" The author looks annoyed.

Don't 'aw' at him. He's the Devil! Behind her, the tiny Devil is opening up a Teen Titans lunch box and there are several live kittens and puppies covered in ranch sauce inside. This is promptly taken from him and the author hands the lunch box of baby animals over to a passing Metatron. See? The Devil. Well once again…sorry for the delay…will try to get chapter 10 out at a faster pace!

_"__"_


	10. Chapter 10

"_You…you have embarrassed me before my council for the last time. Do you understand?"_

_She flinched at his words…in the weeks since her return home…since 'the incident,' this was the first she had seen him, the first she had heard his voice and all the disappointment still laced through it. Her shoulders and back still panged with throbbing pain as she nodded her head solemnly, knowing not to look up to meet that furious gaze. The bruises, now yellowing with age and the bones, still tender from mending, were the least of her reminders of how angry he had been. An involuntary shudder quaked along her frame at that thought, the very very least._

_Above her came a grating growl, deep in the back of his throat, "You are not a mute, so stop acting like one. That lil' performance you put on in New York? Next time, I won't stop you…I'll let your blow your brains out all over the wall and do you know why?"_

_She had barely begun to nod her head when he roared out, her eyes shut tightly in a cowering flinch at it, "I SAID SPEAK!"_

"_Y'Sir! B-B'cause…Because M' replaceable," she said her voice tapering off into a quiet whisper._

"_Yes…You're replaceable. This. Is. Your. Last. Chance. Do you understand THAT, Alaryce?"_

_She made to nod again, catching herself quickly enough, "Ye'sir…M'sorry, sir."_

_A quick glance up showed those hard, stern eyes, so much like her own, but yellowed at the edges with age seen no where else on his youthful face. Eyes that, weeks ago, had bore down on her with unspeakable rage…with hate she'd never seen him turn to her. They softened slightly in notice of her stare, showing her love she had so craved in the time she'd spent away from home…this, the love of a parent after having to discipline an unruly and rude child. Forgiveness love_. Discipline and forgiveness? **Love**?,_ a voice sneered both in and yet still outside of her timid mind, _yes…I suppose that's one way to refer to it you sad, delusional child_. Another flinch and her eyes cast down again as he spoke once more._

"_My precious, lovely, Ali. You keep your nose and your veins clean, dear heart. If you can't even do that, then at least have the pride to own what you sow when you act like the Whore of Babylon. And remember that,-_that was awesome._"_

Ryce jerked her head up to glance up at the man still laying sprawled across the bed the Titans had provided her with several days ago. He'd been talking, though the girl sitting on the edge of the bed he was still catching his breath on hadn't been listening, thoughts traveling back as her eyes stared at the still blank and undecorated walls of her new room. She granted him an apologetic smile as he sat up, a sheet falling off his bare chest to pool in a lap that she knew to also be equally unclothed. Glancing away, she pulled her own shirt back on over her head with a questioning, "Hm?"

"I was just saying. That was…well…awesome."

With a chuckle, she shook her head as she stood, pulling on and zipping up the jeans that had been lying in a heap on the floor, "Heh…you ain't half bad yourself, Mr. Allen."

Instantly, a prideful smile had started to tug at his lips, one Ryce was sure would explode across his face the second her back was turned. Typical guy, her mind chided, as she made to straighten and rearrange the hair that her 'activities' throughout the late night (into early morning) had tousled. The silence that passed was oddly thick. Having performed this song and dance many a time before, the angel knew what act came next. The awkward small talk and silence. Halfway across the bare room were the speed force user's pants, thrown there during the scramble, and without skipping a beat she walked over and scooped them up off her floor. Turning around, she tossed them over to him, ignoring his surprised look at what she said next.

"Hey, listen. I know I said something about getting lunch or whatever…but I forgot I got this _thing_ to do today…so…yea…"

There was just a few seconds of that uncomfortably thick silence as he stared at her, before finally disentangling himself from the sheet. The fact that he was standing there, completely naked in front of her, didn't seem to bother either party. His face had become a mask of confusion, realization just beginning to dawn across it as he asked, "…are you blowing me off?"

"Last night was great Bart, but I'm more into…well…" Ryce shrugged in response, not quite knowing a more delicate, and perhaps less insulting way to put it.

Bart was ready to supply her with one it seemed as he tugged on the tossed pants, raising a single eyebrow, "No strings attached, casual sex?"

"Pretty much. I had fun though…we should do it again some time."

There was a few seconds of that odd quiet again. Standing there still shirtless, still flushed even, the speed forced imbued man just stared blankly. She'd been hoping for a fast and painless exit on his part, realizing only now that perhaps this whole game plan of hers only worked with chauvinistic assholes. Fearing she was now stuck having to TALK, an idea that she dreaded, she was already thinking up a new method of getting him to leave.

Finally, as her thoughts swirled and settled on her next action, he did speak, in a voice that conveyed nothing but straightforward and deadly seriousness.

"…you may be the coolest girl they've ever let stay here."

Or perhaps it worked with ANY male with a viable sex drive, chauvinistic or not. The problem of his not making any move to leave, however, still remained. Biting back the laugh, she walked over and, without hesitation, crushed her lips hungrily to his own once more. Just as before, he responded instantly, pressing his already heated body back against hers, his back colliding with a hard flat surface behind him as she shoved him back. Fire spread again as he felt smaller (and he had already discovered magnificently _talented_) hands fisting into his hair. As soon as it had started though, the heated kiss ended as that hard surface at his back gave way. In an instant, he was sent stumbling backwards, breaking the contact of lips and tongues and warm bodies and effectively dousing any heat that had been building. Before he could look up at the open door he had just nearly fallen on his backside through, his shirt was thrown out into hall over his face.

"Good-BYE Bart," came the amused but not unkind farewell.

And then the door clicked shut in front of him. As soon as it had, the shirt was removed from his face to reveal a wide and undeniably smug grin. This certainly hadn't been the result he imagined when he'd taken her up on that offer of calling on her less than 12 hours ago. Okay….that was a lie, he did imagine it…he'd imagined _plenty._ Then again, he was after all a young man, and he imagined plenty of things in that vein and knew well enough how low a probability any such imaginings had of happening. Or how even lower of a probability they had of happening for such a stretch of time. It was almost like the girl never even slept. Still sporting that unmistakable grin of a man who has recently…preformed well, shall we say…he began to stroll away from the door and down the hall, a spring in his step, pulling the shirt up and over his head…

…and finding Tara Markov standing there when his vision was cleared of the material.

Thought crashed to a halt as the grin faded from his face, "Um…hi?"

"Bart, what are you doing here?" Terra asked raising an eyebrow at his half-on, rumbled shirt.

A few moments of blank staring as his eyes darted around the hall, before settling on something. "I….um…uh…I'm here to check the electricity, ma'am," he said before promptly reaching out and flicking the light switch beside them on and off a few times. The lights flickered accordingly and he gave a serious nod, "Everything looks like it's in order." Before she could further question him, he was gone a breeze ruffling her hair and clothes being left in his wake.

"…weirdo," she muttered before continuing her way down the hallway.

When she reached her destination, breakfast at the front of her mind, she found that while it had been set out, something else was occupying the very center of the table. Namely a jar. A jar, which contained a mass of grizzled grey and black tissue floating amongst a strange yellow liquid. Nose wrinkling in disgust she found her boyfriend and Noel staring at it with equal revulsion, and the resident medic alien frowning down at them all.

"Does anyone know what this is?" Nigel asked, gesturing to the jar as if it was a perfectly natural part of the breakfast ambience as he set down a stack of files and papers next to it.

"Something you put here to completely ruin food for everyone forever?" Beast Boy answered, pushing away his plate.

"It's a lung…or at least what is left of one," was Noel's answer, "Is there a reason behind the persevered, diseased organ Nigel?"

The good doctor's response came in the form of a small cardboard carton being placed upon the table next to the lung. The pack of cigarettes was already open, showing that half of its contents had been depleted. Nigel granted them a brief look of disgust before turning back to his teammates.

"I found THESE sitting on the counter this morning. Obviously someone forgot them there."

Noel just gave a sigh and went back to eating his own meal, ignoring the jar at the table, "I know you're the team doctor and all Nigel, but you can't tell people of age if they can or cannot smoke."

"I am not trying to TELL them what to do…I'm merely providing some helpful visual aids to discourage it."

"…by putting a pickled lung on the table while we are eating?" Savior muttered flatly. The dry sarcasm was all but ignored though as Nigel nodded at him.

"Yes! And if I may remind you it is not just THEIR lungs. We have a minor living with us now…a minor with asthma. And it's not just the smoking either," Nigel said, casting a dark look across the table at the green shifter and his immensely thin girlfriend. Beast Boy could not help but squirm under his gaze slightly as he rolled his eyes knowing exactly where this was going.

"Nigel…she's almost 18…she's not much younger than me and it's not like she's complaining," Garfield muttered.

"Between whoever has taken up this repulsive smoking habit and the shrieking like a lunatic at three in the morning…I don't even know what HALF those words meant," the blacktrinian said throwing his hands up in the air slightly.

This prompted yet another roll of Garfield's eyes, though there was SOME relief in it. Nigel had decided to forgo bringing up the incident that he had been convinced was coming next, "If you're talking about the person screaming on the top of their lungs two nights ago that was _**Ryce **_after Met accidentally set her sleeve on fire…again…"

Nigel cast that same cool look at Beat Boy again and the younger Titan could not stop the cringe as he spoke, "Fine…then let's talk about the inappropriate public displays of affection…in the hallway… namely the one leading to the evidence room…"

* * *

The lights were out in the hallway and night had plunged it into near black. A single splash of darker shadow leaned against one of the walls, its shape shifting smoothly and slightly, as its casters moved and pressed against one another gently. The slightly larger of the melding shadows jerked away though, leaning back as if to hear something.

"Gar…stop freaking out, no one comes down here unless they have to store something…"

"Okay, okay! I just…I thought I heard something…"

"…if you stop one more time I'm leaving and taking your pants with me, Logan."

That seemed to be enough motivation for the larger shadow, Garfield Logan, as he leaned back in and pressed his lips to his annoyed and awaiting girlfriend's neck with a slight purr.

And of course that's when the hallway lights flicked on.

"It is 2 in the morning…when exactly do you sleep Ryc…What the- Gar! Tara!"

"Bow-chicka-bow-wow," came the amused, British accent-tinged voice from the couple's right.

* * *

Both the shifter and his significant other sat silently with their faces heating up as Noel stared at them from across the table. There was no hiding the look of mildly irritated disgust on the white haired man's face.

"…you two were having sex in the hallway outside the evidence room," he said, making sure to not phrase it as a question, not really caring for more details. Garfield's eyes flared wide as he shook his head in denial, quickly shooting a glare at the alien.

"Dude! You said you wouldn't bring that up! We were just kissing and it was pg-13 at the very worst!"

Nigel could only look at him in shock for a moment before he sputtered out, "Neither of you had pants on! New Tower Rule! Pants worn at all times around minors! She is seventeen and no one should be …uh…playing tonsil golf in the middle of the hall like that without any pants!"

The rant was cut short, though. Before he could continue in his rambling, once more that same amused voice rang out from behind them, "S'tonsil hockey Nigel. Pantless tonsil hockey."

As if cued, Ryce walked past the table and over to the sink, Metatron following her close behind into the kitchen. There was no missing the very poor effort she was putting forth to hide the smirk curling up at the corners of her mouth. There was also no avoiding the even harsher blush that spread across Garfield's face when she called over her shoulder slightly, "Here I had B pegged as a tighty whity kinda guy. Don't get your alien knickers in a knot Nigel…B's right…it's not a big deal."

Hands already in the sink to wash the dishes it contained, she barely gave Nigel the slightest of glances when he sighed. Taking on a slightly gentler tone with the much smaller girl he calmly pointed out, "Ryce…It would be nice to allow you to retain some of your innocence while you stay with us,"

Nigel nearly jumped out of his skin as Metatron promptly burst into laughter behind him. When he turned back around to see him, he had settled into a chair and helped himself to a croissant from the middle of the table, grinning with amused good humor.

"Innocent? Her? None of you have to worry about that…right, Ryce?" Metatron chuckled as he nibbled at the edge of the baked good. Out of the corner of his eye, Nigel caught sight of Ryce tensing just ever so slightly. It was a slight, reflexive movement and gone in an instant, but when she spoke there was a clear edge to her voice.

"Watch it, Adam…" came a warning growl from over by the sink as Ryce continued to slowly wash the flatware and dishes. Adam glanced over as well now; face a mask of genuine, almost innocent, confusion. Nigel sighed, already seeing that her clear aggravation was going right over his head.

"Watch what?" Metatron asked, head tilting slightly to one side, before his face brightened in humor, "Oh hey! Remember when every world we went to for like a week showed your alternates in bed someone…some_**one**__**s**_ sometimes? God you should tell them some of THOSE stories. Speaking of which have you landed Bart ye-"

His ramblings were cut short. Turning back to the sink, the others found Ryce had turned to face him, water still running behind her, a collection of sudsy gunk dripping from her clenched hands to the floor. Finally, recognition bloomed across the demi-demon's face as he cringed ever so slightly.

"…oh…oh that's not good…that's your angry face," Metatron said his expression growing into a sheepishly hesitant grin. All the while, Ryce just continued to give him that steady, even stare.

"…You're cute when you're angry?" he said, almost in the form of a question.

"Matthews, you are about 5 seconds from becoming a gelding," she growled out, eyes narrowed into angry slits. Neither one saw the slightly malevolent grin creeping over the face of one particular breakfast-goer as their exchange continued. Smiling pleasantly in the face of the slightly younger girls threats, Adam looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Hm…Never have been one of those before. Since when are you so shy about your sexual exploits and adventures?" he asked.

There was no answer from Ryce right away, as the moment the newest tower resident opened her mouth, the owner of the aforementioned malevolent grin decided to throw in her own two cents, "…so _**you're**_ the reason that Bart was sneaking out of here this morning with a bounce in his step and that, 'I just got laid' grin plastered across his face. Someone likes to move quick and loose!"

Ryce gave a quick sigh, visibly deflating. She muttered in deadpanned annoyance still looking at Metatron, "Since I moved in with the ever understanding and open minded Tara Markov. Thanks, Adam."

Perhaps the best way to describe the geokinetic's current expression would be deviously jubilant. For the briefest of moments, Ryce began to regret the lighthearted poking she had commenced in after the pantless incident. Especially when Tara, all but ignoring the growing look of agitation on the maid's face, turned to smirk at Metatron. For his part he was still retaining that same look of honest and simple confusion, "So, Met…you seem to be in the know…are there parameters for the slut-dom, or is it just any viable male specimen that's not Rob she falls on her back for?"

"AYE!" came a cry of protest from the sink, as a collective groan went up from the rest of the people at the table. They had to give Tara some credit though…she showed a few more days restraint than she had with Sophie. Metatron shook his head in denial as he frowned, and said, "Now that's not nice…I never said Ryce was a slut…"

"Thank you, Adam," Ryce said turning back to the sink to return to her dish washing duties, the contents clanging together just a wee bit harsher than they had when she started.

Adam nodded and continued his defense of his friend's honor, "I mean yeah…sure…she enjoys sex. Who doesn't?"

"…um…yea Adam…s'enough," Ryce interrupted.

"….really REALLY enjoys sex…with strangers…quite often. But that doesn't make her a sl-"

Reeling around, a piece of soapy silverware still in her hands, Ryce stared at him in mortified shock, "Will you just STOP talking already!"

Across the table, Terra had broken out into laughter, holding her sides and grinning at the half angel's clear humiliation. Seizing the opportunity at hand, she continued her revenge commentary, "Uh-huh…how many guys has she-"

"Adam Matthews if you answer her I will make your life HELL," Ryce growled, her voice dipping slightly into an inhuman crackle, as she pointed the knife she had bee cleaning towards her friend.

After a moment or two of silence, Metatron turned back to Tara shrugging a bit helplessly, "…she is actually kind of scary when she's angry so I plead the fifth…she can be really mean. Plus she has a knife…a knife I wish she'd stop pointing at me. I'm scared of wood handles, you see. They killed my father."

His lack of response, however, did not seem to present the skinny blond a deterrent from her current path. Offering up the same slightly cruel smirk she glanced back to the sink, "Heh…the evidence is _really_ mounting in your favor there isn't i-"

She didn't get to finish as Ryce's face broke out into a pleasant grin that never quite reached her eyes. With an air of carelessness, the teenager dropped the knife back into the sink with a gulping plunk of a sound. Wiping her hands on her pants, with the same level of indifference, her voice called out over Terra's, affectively interrupting whatever insult she was about to spout out, "I must say this is SO rich. I'm being judged by the girl who went from mentally lusting after ancient, cobweb infested, Slade crotch to giving a new meaning to the phrase 'doggy style.'"

Large blue eyes widening and than narrowing Tara stood slamming her hands on the table. "Hey! Listen you little -"

Once again though, Ryce cut her right off, the slight grin growing a little wider and a little less pleasant. Voice rising louder and her accent a thicker with each word, she walked over to the table all the while staring back at Tara with that biting grin, "Nope! M'sorry but ya have gone and f'filled your 'Piss Ryce off' quota for the day. So, why don't we get one thing straight right now while we're here? I'm not Sophie Matthews, Markov. I'm. Not. _**N**__**ice**_. And m'not taking any of YOUR crap!"

"Bring it on bitch!" Terra snarled back now leaning across the table in challenge as Ryce did the same.

Luckily enough for those not quite involved in the swiftly approaching 'cat fight,' Nigel quickly shot an arm over the table should either blond feel so inclined to escalate the issue. With a stern bark to his voice he managed to call out over both of them, "Tara! Ryce! Separate rooms! Now!"

Neither seemed to hear him though as they each attempted to get the last word, "Sleazy, limey Whore!"

"Better a whore than a half starved c-"

"Continuous inspiration!" Metatron cut her off quickly before she finished her thought.

Black and blue eyes narrowing, perhaps not quite realizing what Ryce had been about to shout, Nigel shot the younger of the two blonds a silencing glare, "I said now!"

They both turned, as if synchronized and stormed off in separate directions. One grumbling insults under her breath in clear, discernable English, the other in a series of snarling, angelic gibberish. From both directions, after they had gone out of sight, a slamming door cut off their mud slinging, muttered out annoyances. After a few moments of staring after her Garfield also abandoned his breakfast and quickly followed Tara. Once more the kitchen was plunged into silence.

Silence Metatron was all too happy to break in a carefree tone as he poured himself a cup of coffee, "Well…that certainly spiraled out of control quickly didn't it?"

"Met, once again we do not need to hear every single thought you have as you have them," Savior sighed. Standing from the table he walked over to the garbage to dump what remained of his cooled breakfast while Nigel shook his head in annoyed wonder at them all.

"I'm sorry…would you prefer the book then?" Metatron replied with a grin, offering him said book, "I also have a hard cover bound collector's edition if you're interested!"

There was no response. There was not even a reaction, as Nigel – after gathering his preserved lung and several papers and files he had brought with him – and Noel turned and walked from the room as well. Thus Adam was left alone with his book. Shaking his head with a sigh Metatron simply sipped his coffee and thumbed through the pages, "No one appreciates good literature any more…"

* * *

Out in the hall, Noel was about to head off to his room. His mind elsewhere, wandering, when his eyes picked up on a few papers falling from Nigel's stack of files without the alien doctor's notice. Bending over to retrieve it, he could not help but notice the bolded name, Ryce 'Smith' across the top, or the writing and notes scribbled beneath it. What his eyes did manage to conveniently ignore however, was the red stamp over them that read 'CONFIDENTIAL.'

"What is this?" he asked eyes scanning over the words.

Turning back to see what Noel was talking about, Nigel frowned at the paper he had in his hands. He recognized the page instantly; of course he had to drop THAT one…the sheet with 'sensitive' information, "Our new, young friend's medical evaluation. I had her go over with me any issues she may have health wise and would you stop reading the paper that says 'Confidential' in big red letters, thank you."

It was too late though. Blue eyes widening as he read, the white haired Titan's head jerked up to look at Nigel in surprise at what exactly had been written there. It was easy to define the look as utter disbelief, "…she has scars on the inside of her forearm? Track marks…and she told you it is from a bad reaction to allergy shots? Nigel, please tell me you don't buy that. If she has a problem with addic-"

Scalpel did not give him the chance to finish that sentence, a clawed hand quickly plucking the papers from his hands. The look crossing the doctor's face was sheer annoyance, eyes darting about for a moment to ensure that no one else was listening, "Does the word confidential mean anything to you humans? Yes, I realize it is a lie…as does Tim who, yes Noel, I already informed."

Slipping the paper back into the file, he began to walk on, Noel following soundlessly as he listened, "So…before you obsess on it, her blood came back clean. Tim is choosing not to press the matter unless it becomes apparent that it is still an issue…and provided I do periodic checks. I'll remind you, Noel, that if everyone in this tower had every stupid decision they made in the past held against them...MOST of us would be in jail."

"You're right…but you do know that the only reason Tim isn't pressing the matter is because there is no legal and substantial proof, not out of some sense of sympathy or forgiveness," Noel told the already nodding doctor.

"Yes…I know," Nigel sighed glancing down at the already thick medical file the girl had accumulated in her short stay. He was obviously eager to get off that particular subject, making no effort to hide his changing of the topic, "There are certain factors that should be known though…she's given me the go ahead with them already."

"Like?" Noel asked raising an eyebrow.

"Everyone already knows about the asthma and the partial blindness, though she does 'see' out of that eye…but not in the sense that you or I see. She said it's an 'angel thing.' Her bone density is also slightly weaker than it should be. I can't really say for sure if it is a congenital issue or a result of mishandling and neglect. On a plus side she actually has remarkable hearing and sense of smell...to counteract her terrible eye sight I suppose," Nigel said while counting off the issues on with his fingers, "However, the point I really need to inform everyone about is purely psychological, amusing as it's something I understand all too well, though mine is more a physiological matter of survival. She is clinically aquaphobic…"

"Ten dollar term for not being able to swim?" Savior asked dryly, as Nigel shook his head looking exasperated.

"No. This is exactly why everyone needs to know, because they cannot downplay it as trivial. It may not be a physical impossibility for her like it is me…but it isn't some silly little thing, Noel. The fear is crippling for her…anything bigger than a bathtub and she apparently falls to incoherent pieces."

"Is there a particular reason behind it?"

"Perhaps…more likely than not I would say. But it is personal and I did not want to pry. I offered my assistance in helping her cope with her fear…but she seemed embarrassed even mentioning it."

"Did her embarrassment end in a screaming match of obscenities with you too? I'd add bordering on psychotic anger issues to your file," Savior asked, now noticing their path was taking them down to the docking port below the Tower. A smirk quirked up on the doctor's face barely visible and only for a second before fading back into neutrality. It was not missed though.

"You hide your amusement so well, Scalpel however do you manage?" Noel said dryly

The blacktrinian's response was dismissive at best as he waved a claw hand at his teammate's heavy sarcasm, "It is hardly psychotic…just a different manner of handling insult. We all have interaction issues Noel…even Sophie and she's as calm as they come."

"Yup! And if Ryce were here she would likely point out that TARA is the common factor in both cases of 'interaction issues,'" came the familiar and pleasant voice from behind them both. A glance back showed Metatron smiling at them in his calm, pleasant way.

"Yes because your little friend's sweet disposition and level head certainly did not exacerbate the situation just now at all," Noel responded, frowning at the heat demon as he walked past. Nigel could only give a slight chuckle at the flippant shrug the white haired man got as his response. Walking out into the large open room that served as their docking port, the chaos infused man turned back to them, "She'll improve with some nap time…like a cute lil' baby. I met her once as a baby…dropped her right on her head. Right Ryce?"

* * *

"Piss off Matthews!" was the response she shouted back with a grin and an oddly good natured tone. Even from across the room, separated by the large port of water, she could see he was smiling back at her. With a shake of her head and a small laugh she turned back towards the submersible docked up against the side of the water hole. Sheer boredom, and perhaps a slight urge to take the doctor's advice on conquering her fears, had brought her down here. What better a place to grow accustomed to her normally nerve wracking anxieties, than a room with a giant water filled hole in its center? She would take it slow, inch closer to the edge ever so slightly, maybe within the hour she'd be able to look down into it…or maybe tomorrow…slow going and easy. For now she was content to sit and just watch in mild curiosity as Cyborg continued to work on his newest 'baby.'

"Whacha doin' anyway?" she asked, curiosity lacing her tone.

"Checking the hull for any weak spots…then updating communications…double checking the inter-compartmental connections…uninstalling Brick Breaker and Tetris from certain people's consoles," Victor called back, his voice growing into a slightly annoyed grumble at the last part. From the dock he could hear her laughing back at him, and he could not help but glance up and grin at the younger girl watching him. There was an innocently inquisitive look on her face, like a younger sibling peaking over your shoulder to watch you work. It was endearing in a way he decided.

"Wanna give me a hand?" he asked her, noticing her perk up a bit at the question. Taking it as an affirmative, he climbed down the ladder into the sub, calling up to her, "There's a power drill right next to you in the tool kit. Bring it over to the ladder for me and I'll show ya what I'm doing."

He missed the pleasant smile fading from her face at his request. There was doubt and even a bit of fear flickering in her eyes as she turned to look at the kit a few feet away. The drill he had mentioned was sitting right on top. A quick glance back, not at the submersible but at the deep water lapping up around it. So much for taking it slow, she thought helplessly. For a moment she considered calling the cybernetic Titan back and going through the mortifying experience of explaining why she could not do as he asked.

Instead, however, a look of obstinate determination came over her face. Ryce frowned a bit, mentally scolding herself. She was being a baby; after all it was not as if she would even ever be touching the water itself. It was no more a risk than what she was doing now, sitting here. Steeling herself against her fears, she stood, a hand reaching out and snatching up the drill as she did so. This was perfect…this was what she wanted. No one ever got anything done by sitting on their ass, her father had always been quick to tell her. You piss and moan and nothing changes…either put up or shut up, Ali.

A shaky few steps brought her to the edge of the dock; a single step would bring her down onto the smooth, metal hull. Her heart was pounding in a way that was almost embarrassing and her eyes wanted so desperately to dart away from the latch she had seen Cyborg disappear into, to focus on the blue-black water that would surround her with one tiny step down. Not giving herself the chance, she pushed herself forward, feet coming to rest on the top of the docked hull, body adjusting to the minute vibrations and rocking the currents around it held. With slow, cautious steps, she pushed forward once more…her eyes trained on that one spot…all but oblivious to the small green beetle that had crawled up behind her. So focused she did not even notice when the beetle expanded and reverted back to the team's original source of comic relief.

A grin grew over Beast Boys face as he watched the teenager walk carefully across the upper hull of the submersible, drill in hand. A quick temperature check was all he needed to reaffirm his next action, Operation: Get Back for Pantless Taunting. Briefly, he also thought that he needed to come up with better operation names. With stealth that would have perhaps made Tim Drake jealous (and perhaps make him question WHY it was not put to use in battle as opposed o some poorly code named joke) the shifter slipped up behind the girl as she leaned forward ever so carefully to hand Victor the power tool. He was close… close…almost there…Ryce was straightening up now, making to turn back to walk her way to the dock with an odd look of concentration on her face. Body shifting he set himself up, and before she could fully turn around to face the large green raptor now standing in his place, Garfield let out a loud screech.

The effect was instant and her expression priceless, as the mismatched eyes widened and she jumped in surprise with a shriek of her own. A step back…two even…and then her feet found only air, sending her toppling back into the tepid bay waters with a splash. The green raptor faded back into Beast Boy who instantly doubled over in laughter at his 'prank,' not stopping when Cyborg popped back up from inside to give him a withering look.

"Really man? How old are ya, five?" Victor asked with a frown, glad that she had not taken his tool with her into the water.

"Aw c'mon dude! It's classic!" Garfield responded, gesturing to the slowly calming water she had disappeared into. Choking back tears of mirth Garfield looked at Victor waiting for his response. No longer laughing, he finally heard it.

"Garfield! She can't swim!" Nigel screamed at him from across docking port floor. It was only then did the Titan look up to see that Ryce has never surfaced…the water had already returned to its calm, unbroken lapping. No ripples…not even a bubble. Before he could so much as pull himself forward to see further, a blur of black and gold came past splashing into the water that concealed where ever the small blond had disappeared to.

Scrambling to his feet, Victor following close behind, Garfield was just about to dive in mid-shape shift when Metatron resurfaced. In his arms he clumsily held Ryce who was clung to him like a soaked cat. Her irises had contracted into inhuman slits and her hands, now oddly clawed, were going so far as to have her nails literally sinking into his skin as she grappled onto him as if for dear life. Instantly, regret and guilt washed over Garfield seeing her pale face. The pleasant grin, even the comical surprise, was gone and it was twisted into blank and sheer terror as she let out coughs in-between her desperate gasping breaths. Vaguely, he was aware of Nigel and Noel thudding down onto the submarine's hull as well. A white mass of Shimmer coiled down and looped around both demon and angel, pulling them back up and out of the water.

Settled down onto the cool metal, Adam managed to pry her hands gently away from where they had hooked into his neck and arms. There was little resistance as she just shivered and coughed. Nigel was next to her in an instant, asking questions and looking over her current state ignoring her distinct lack of answers. It was easy to see though that her eyes remained fixed on Metatron, as if unaware of anyone else. There was a flash of heat, warming the air around them slightly and drying the soaking wet demon. For all their worry though, he grinned at her widely.

"You were fantastic!"

Noel cast him a dark look, as Nigel continued to ensure that while shaken and clearly terrified, that the girl was not physically damaged in anyway, "Met, have you lost your mind? She almost drowned!"

His indignant snapping was waved off as Adam sat next to her still grinning almost proudly, "But she's not crying! And she doesn't need her inhaler! I repeat, she was fantastic!"

"Ryce…I'm-I'm sorry! I mean…I didn't know…I would never..." Beast Boy stammered eyes wide and horrified at what he had done. Before he could get another word of apology or explanation out, she raised a trembling hand to cut him off gently. Eyes returning to their more human-like state, she glanced at him as if only noticing them all for the first time. The fear was still there in her eyes, but the shifter was relieved to see it lessening, to see the clear lack of anger or accusation with in them. When she spoke, she stuttered and tripped on the words, whether from nerves or the chill he would not be sure.

"N-no…s'my own fault. Sh-shoulda brought it up…and ya know, n-not been by water."

Nigel frowned at her, shaking his head though his eyes showed relief, "I do not wish to pry into your business, Ryce but…"

There was a twitchy sort of smile quirking up on her lips now as she let out a humorless, slightly pitched chuckle, "H-hehe….Why? I pry into all of yours…pry aw-away."

"Do you want me to tell them?" Metatron asked from beside her, apparently already knowing the story. The shaken girl glanced at him briefly before giving a nod of consent. A kind smile was what she got in return, before Adam turned to the team with solemn and serious eyes, "The truth is…this is all Tom Cruise's fault..."

While the other three present just looked vaguely annoyed, the panicked guilt fell out of Beast Boy's face as he just looked at Metatron blankly, "…Wha?"

"Ryce is actually Mike Conner…professional con artist and member of the Illuminati seeking to bring down the Soviet Union. Problem is…they were a few decades late and it had already been brought down. So the organization is kinda in chaos…fighting over who they're supposed to be bringing down next and whose turn it is to chase Tom Cruise out of the HQ closets. Unfortunately, Mike couldn't get the tiny lunatic out before he starts gnawing on the linens and jumping on the couches, so they ended up shipping poor Mike off to farm Mongolian yaks as punishment. All this, in spite of his deep hatred of Yakian kind for killing his brother.

"One day, after he had learned to love and respect the beasts, a rouge yak appeared and spit at him causing him to fall and become stuck, face down, in their watering hole as the lot of them began to stampede. 15 women, 23 children, 2 club footed midgets, and 7 and a half Mongolian yak lives were lost that day including his beloved Yak wife, Appa…and it could have all been avoided if Tom Cruise had just come out of that damn closet," Met said with a somber shake of his now bowed head and his hand over his heart. Then he looked back up at them all with a happy little grin,

"And that's why Ryce is afraid of water…and yaks."

………………………………….

"…and how did Mike turn into a girl, Met?" Noel asked just staring at him in a clear lack of amusement.

Met gave a roll of his eyes before answering, "The rouge yak that spit at him had friends on the other side of course…weren't you listening?"

"…you've been drinking laundry detergent again haven't you?" Ryce muttered flatly, no longer with that shaky stutter, raising an eyebrow.

"Tide tastes better than All…" Adam said with a shrug as he helped her back up to her feet. The shakes had subsided from her frame, but it was not easy to miss the way her eyes continued to twitch fearfully back to the water surrounding them every few seconds. Taking the unspoken cue the small group made their way off the sub and back to the more stable dock that it was resting against. Once finally clear of any risk of recurring fall, Ryce gave a sigh and began, "Daddy had been away on business for a few days when they showed up…"

* * *

_She could not have been more than five years old, probably even less. The two young men walking with her appearing to be in their late teens or early twenties. It was a scene that would not seem so bizarre to a casual observer. The tiny blond child clinging to and smiling at the one, the indulgent grin granted her for doing so. She was clad in a bathing suit and her fine blond hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. Barely contained excitement was plastered across her face at the thought of her big brothers teaching her to swim as they had promised her a short hour ago. How she had jumped at the chance…if nothing else then simply because they had offered…simply because they smiled. None of her siblings ever smiled at her. _

_Up ahead lay a lake…the sounds of the gentle lapping against the small dock stretching out over it already reaching her ears…the smell of the tide waters tickling her nose. Daddy had said he would take her to this place when he returned; he was going to show her how to swim. How proud he would be when he came home to find her __**already**__ able to swim…what a surprise it would be, thanks to these brothers who had decided to take her little hands in their own strong, but gentle fingers. It was too much…she was too excited. The brother carrying her was setting her down now, so as she could walk on her own. The second her feet where touching the ground once more, she ripped away from the kind hands to run down the ancient wooden dock. Twice she nearly tripped…stumbling to scrape her hands against the planks. By the time she reached the end, she could feel the sting of splinters burning in her skin. It didn't matter…all that mattered was how proud daddy would be…how happy those smiles made her feel. _

_She looked over the side, into the green waters, marveling at the small fish lingering at the surface. The light above caught their miniscule scales, making the water sparkle as if filled with silver glitter. It was beautiful and mesmerizing. Even if she wanted to, she would not be able to look away. Even when she felt and heard the boards beneath her feet shift under her brothers' weight she did not so much as glance away. Even when he spoke, his voice a purr in her ear as he leaned in close to watch with her._

"…_do you like the fishies Ali?"_

_She nodded dumbly, a thumb in her mouth as she smiled down._

"_Perhaps you'd like to see them…right up close."_

_And then her knees and shins shattered._

_She heard the sound of both her kneecaps and the thin bones of her legs beneath them snapping before she felt them. The quick crack sounding so foreign to her ears. Then, and only then, did the pain finally light up her nerves and fry itself agonizingly into her brain. Her mouth dropped into a perfect 'o' of shock, preparing itself for the oncoming sob and shriek of pain. It was muffled in an instant but the same hands that moments ago had broken her fragile bones, that moments before that had cupped her hands caringly and carried her protectively. When he spoke she could hear the sneering smile in his voice, so different from the kind mask it wore before, she could hear the enjoyment her sobbing into his squeezing, tough hands brought._

"_What ever is the matter lil' Ali? Don't you like the fishies you fucking filthy lil' bitch?"_

_The little girl, barely away from being still called a baby, shook her head from side to side the best she could, eyes wide above her covered nose and mouth. She whimpered and sobbed trying to rip her face away from the suffocating hand, trying to understand the horrid agony throbbing in her oh so tiny legs. There was a rattle of metal behind her…something clamping tightly on her twisted limbs. Her other brother was speaking, his voice a hiss filled with hateful glee._

"_Perhaps when you are no longer a stain on our kind, father will return to his senses. Come Ali…let us have our fun. Show your big brothers how you swim."_

_There was a great plunking splash, her wide blue eyes streaming with tears of pain and terror, caught sight of a chain racing into the water beside her, weighed down by whatever anchor they had fashioned. And then the pull on her legs…the pain flared up in a way she in her short years of life could never have imagined. She was yanked away from that horrid smothering hand, yanked away from the dock._

_And then came the cold…she went out of the blue and into the black._

_Free of the hand, she reacted instinctively with a sucking gasp for air. Her lungs instead filled with dank, muddy lake water. Eyes darting from side to side found only shapeless shadows, tinged green by the barely there promise of light from above. Something low and lizard like switched on in her mind. The pain in her legs, the gut wrenching shifting of bone against bone, it did not matter. She needed air…she needed breath. Tiny limbs lashed out, her body twisting and writhing against the chain anchoring her in the greenish black. The pain that it caused didn't matter, because it could not even hope to match the terror she felt as her chest started to burn. The fire crept through her veins…into her head…white flashes of light seemed to flicker all along her eyes._

Hold on,_ something in her whispered._

_I can't…hurts…I'm scared…I want my daddy…_

I know… just a lil' while lo-_  
_

_No…nononononoplease no please it hurts oh god it hurts daddy Iwantmydaddy-HURTSITHURTS-DADDYPLEASEITHURTS _

…I…I'm sorry…I'm here.

_With the final soothing of a dying and misfiring mind, the burning began to lessen…replaced at first by cold numbness…and then strange warmth. And that warmth was more terrifying then the pain and cold combined. Soon enough the teasing light from above even faded…there was only black even as the chain was broken…even as the massive form carried her swiftly to the surface and brought air back into her lungs. When she would finally choke awake with sobs of pain and fear, shivering in X's arms…it would be to the sounds of her brothers' agonized screams and the sight of her father's wrath._

_

* * *

_

They stood in silence, just staring at Ryce. Meanwhile, she looked back at them impassively, as if having finished telling them of some mundane little anecdote of little concern. Under their horrified gazes she began to fidget a bit, showing more discomfort at their looks than she had throughout her whole tale.

"…Adam's version was a lot less depressing," Garfield said before he could stop himself.

"Gar!" Nigel snapped in reproach while Noel frowned. Again they were back to the girl's odd detachment from her situation, "For someone who was flailing for dear life a moment ago you don't seem too bothered by relating the story of why to us."

Ryce once again just waved it off, a small resigned smile on her face, "S'fine...really. I don't have a problem talking about it. Sure s'a little dark of a story…sure it was a horrible thing to go through…but talking about it isn't gonna harm or help. S'very simple in the end, I lived and they didn't…the only problem is I never could quite get my fear of the water under control. S'jus a quirk of mine."

There was a distinct lack of blankness to her eyes, even with this forced detachment that was so very out of place. It was unnerving Noel decided…how alive they seemed and how bright when they had absolutely no reason to be. When she looked around at them, ignoring the muted horror they were feeling and smiled…it was genuine. After a moment of two of the awkward quiet again, she turned to Nigel, "I'm soaking wet…I know I said I'd help you with inventory this afternoon but y'mind if I push it back an hour?"

The doctor nodded kindly, "Of course…are you sure you're alright?"

A final waving off of his concern was given as she began to make her way out of the room, "I'll be fine."

Slipping away from them quickly as she could, she silently made her way through the halls. Heading to her room, she did not have to glance back to know one of them had followed her. Furthermore, she did not have to glance back to know who it was either. They walked like that in silence, until they reached her room. One after the other slipped inside, Ryce making no move to even indicate that she knew of his presence. Instead she just stood, staring at the same blank wall from earlier.

In the mean time, he was watching her…waiting for the sound that he knew to be coming. It _was_ coming – that was a definite, the question was when. Metatron was not kept waiting for long. In fact, it took only a moment for the muffled sniffle to reach his pointed ears. It took less than a moment for him to scoop her up from where she was standing and draw her close. It was a practiced movement, a familiar one. Ryce turned into him quickly to bury her face in his shoulder, sniffling quietly against the black and gold material of his shirt. This was how they remained, him holding her close gently, nuzzling her in an effort to calm the quiet tears.

There was a gentle smile on his face as he took in the little things her new group of friends had managed to miss. Things only seen by knowing a person well enough and for a decent length of time. The smile she gave them was indeed genuine…but cracked. The tiny fissures in Ryce's smile had just as little to do with the water as her current state. Her tears were too long after coming out of the water to have anything to do with it…she did not cry so easily either…she also did not let stupid things like a bit of teasing get under her skin as effectively as Tara had done earlier. Above all else though, were the purple circles under her eyes, now glaringly obvious after the water had washed the make up she had covered them earlier with away.

"It's getting bad again for you again…when was the last time you slept?" he asked quietly.

"…M'getting' you all wet." came the muffled whisper as she nuzzled closer into his warmth, stubbornly avoiding acknowledgment of his observation.

He shrugged, and took a step or two back, before settling against the wall. Gently, he began slipping down to sit upon the floor with her in his lap. One arm held her close, the other pressed gently into her back to send a wave of heat into her chilled body. Above all else Metatron protectively ensured her comfort ignoring the moisture seeping back into the clothes he had dried mere moments ago. He grinned softly and looked down, "Did you know that water evaporates? It's this bizarre wizardry, called 'science.'"

"But-"

"Deal with it beyotch," he interrupted kindly, placing his lips to her temple in a light kiss. Turning just slightly, Ryce could see his face, still that calm smile. There was nothing else to say after that. There never was. Instead she curled into his lap, as if trying to get closer than she already was…closer then at all possible. She focused on this…not on the terror…not on the cold or the embarrassment she felt at her panic attack…not on the sheer exhaustion gnawing at her. Above all else, she did not focus on the hissing, garbling, whispering screams grinding at her from all directions, growing louder with every hour. She focused on the hand pressing against her back sending thrumming heat into the sore and tensed muscles. She focused on him and the tight feeling in her chest as she closed her eyes.

She did not sleep.

* * *

A few hours later found Tim Drake ushering his team slowly out the door. They had agreed to this public relations event several weeks ago, just a few hours a local children's hospital. While it had taken him far longer than it should have to get everyone out the door, they were just about ready. A glance to his right found Victor frowning heavily.

"Where is Gauntlet?" Cyborg grumbled flipping open his COM before Robin could say anything, "'Cause he aint in the T-Car."

On the screen the blond flickered into view to be glared at by his fellow teammate, "Rob! Move your ass!"

And so Rob promptly started to dance.

"…I meant get down here!" the metal infused Titan said in a perfected dead pan, as Robin reached over and clicked the screen off for him. A questioning look from Victor prompted their leader to shrug and walk towards the exit.

"It's his turn to stay behind. He'll hail us if something goes wrong. Let's get going."

* * *

And with that Robert Candide was left alone in the Tower to his own devices. Well, almost alone. Ryce and Metatron were surely lurking around somewhere, but given their weird little relationship no doubt they were off somewhere doing something mind bogglingly stupid or insane together. Which left him to do as he pleased…it is times like this that one must be sure that he wished that he was not the subject of every impotency joke under God and had a girlfriend…or perhaps just a girl who would give him the right time of day.

"…do you ever get tired of being mean spirited?"

Nope…now, leave the fourth wall alone, he is still mending.

Rob looked up with an annoyed expression, no doubt ready to continue talking to the ether, when he paused. Head tilting to one side, he listened to the steady thrumming he had just noticed.

What the hell was that noise?

Curiosity getting the better of him, Gauntlet made his way down the hall as the dull rush of sound became louder and clearer. It was music quite obviously…and he recognized the tune too, he began to realize. Now, it was just a matter of finding where it was coming from. Even that did not take very long. In moments he had traced the origin of the blaring music to the large recreation/living room of the Tower. He had been right about the song…and as soon as he had identified it, he also recognized the two voices singing along to it. With a cringe, he amended the 'singing' by placing 'attempting to' before it.

"_With a bit of a mind flip  
You're there in the time slip__!_" Metatron's voice rang out of the blaring radio.

He rounded the corner just in time to see him jump down off the couch and point to Ryce. She was grinning widely and pushing a vacuum along the floor, taking her cue from him. Robert sniffed a bit. What was that smell?

"_And nothing can ever be the same  
You're spaced out on sensation…"_ Ryce called back to Adam in response, her voice rolling into a slight purr to go with the words.

He knew that smell. His mind struggled to place it as Metatron all but scream the next line out, "_Like you're under sedation!_"

And then he knew…and he smiled.

"_Let's do the Time Warp again!_" the two were yelling together laughing, "_Let's do the Time Warp agaaaaaaain!_"

Rob continued to smile a pleasant little grin. Why you ask? Because above everything …above the blaring music…above the groaning vacuum and their really off key sing-screaming…Rob's attention was focused on one thing as the grin took on a slightly unpleasant tinge and made its way across his face. The hand not occupied with pushing the vacuum cleaner across the carpeting lifted up to her mouth and stuck what was unmistakably a lit cigarette between her lips. Oh it was like Christmas.

The very second the song winded down into silence, both the angel and demon hybrids heard the clapping and chuckling request for an encore. There was a look of comical surprise on Ryce's face, eyes widening behind her glasses and cigarette drooping down in her mouth as she turned to find Rob standing there.

"So you're the reason Nigel's been shoving the pickled lung in our faces," Gauntlet said with a cheeky grin, "Tsk Tsk…a minor with cigarettes that cannot be allowed."

Ryce's surprise instantly turned to annoyance as she flicked the vacuum off and rolled her eyes, "Mind your own business, Candide."

"Ah-ah-ah," he said stepping further into the room, "but that is where you are mistaken my underage friend. As a Titan and upholder of justice…it IS my business. After all, what kind of person would I be if I did not inform our fearless leader that the law is being broken under our very own roof?"

Eye flashing wide and then narrowing into angry little slits she reeled back around to face him. "You wouldn't."

"Oh yes I would…and am," he said with that calm, sure smile. Oh the expression on her face…forget Christmas. It was his Christmas and birthday and Thanksgiving all rolled into one.

A low growl grated up from her throat as a tendril of smoke fell from her lips. Behind her, Metatron just watched the exchange in quiet amusement, not offering up any sort of suggestion to her predicament. Ripping the smoke from her mouth she sneered at the blond Titan in front of her, "What do you want then to keep your mouth shut? Another date? 'Cause m' telling you right now that-"

A patronizing little laugh cut her off, as Gauntlet just waved his hand dismissively, "Oh no thank you. I already have the one contractually obligated date and truth be told while you are kind of cute you look at me like you wanna kick me in the face every time I walk by…now this? After how pleasant you've been to me? This is just happy, fun revenge time for Gauntlet."

Slack jawed, she stared at him while Adam chuckled from behind her. For a moment she was blinded by a flash, before Rob lowered a camera (HER camera) away from his face. Looking into the back at the display he smiled, "Oh, your face is priceless right now."

In an instant her face twisted into a dangerous snarl, irises sharpening into slits. Ryce had every intention of showing him – very slowly – why he was going to keep his big mouth shut. Every intention that is until her eyes caught sight something behind him. The display panel of the Tower elevator…and the floor numbers lighting up as the compartment rose steadily upwards.

For a moment she considered quickly stamping the cigarette out and denying any knowledge of Rob's up and coming claims, but the smell was everywhere. She was cornered whether Gauntlet opened his mouth or not. The elevator lights paused for a moment, letting someone out. It brought her some time to think as her eyes darted frantically around the room. Adam smirked at her in amusement having noticed what Rob still remained oblivious too, waiting to see what she would do. And then it hit her…and her lips quirked up into the same evil, little smile Gauntlet had sported before. Turning back to Rob, the smile faded into something different…not quite softer, but less biting perhaps as her eyes gazed over him. A hand rose of to take a long drag on her smoke and remove her glasses.

"Heh…I must say Mr. Candide," Ryce murmured her voice returning to a purr like sound, "I didn't think you had such a delightfully wicked side…M'actually a bit impressed. You've got cojones…"

The smug look of satisfaction fell from his face, replaced by blankness, "…huh?"

Ryce chuckled in a low, slow voice, "C'mon Robbie, I'm sure we can work something out to keep this between us."

A moment of silence and then, "…I resubmit my previous huh?"

Licking her lips lightly, she strolled towards him. Actually…a more apt term may have been stalked. A mock pout formed as she crept closer still, looking him up and down with an odd, teasing gleam to her eyes. It was a turn of mannerisms that Rob actually had not even considered or prepared for, so he just stood and stared at her uncomprehendingly. In fact, he subconsciously began to back pedal away from her until he felt the living room couch pressed up against his back. Again, she gave that purring little sound of amusement, now standing in front of him, looking up at him with a sly little smile. Rising up on her toes, she tilted her head up just a fraction of an inch.

"Le'see…maybe we can occupy that non-stop mouth of yours with something else, eh?"

She was hovering mere centimeters from his face…her lips tilted just out of reach of his own, breath ghosting over them hotly. The harsh, acrid smell of cigarettes was oddly absent, in fact she smelled almost sweet, like tangy fruit. For a moment, Rob all but forgot WHY exactly it was she was there or what he had been talking about a few seconds ago…something about telling someone something….Tim? Maybe? Who cares? Oh look the top of her shirt is unbuttoned…hm…those are kinda nice…Her hand was creeping up his arm, nails tickling in a slow trace, sending a shiver down his spine. That hand with the cigarette rose up and placed it between his slightly opened lips as she leaned over to huskily whisper in his ear.

"Whattaya say Robbie?"

Robbie? Robbie who? His mind muttered stupidly as he nodded his head in dumb agreement to whatever she was talking about. She smiled at him as she pulled away, eyes half lidded and promising, without words, something decidedly naughty. The hand that had placed the cigarette between his lips traveled down to his chest, nails doing that same tickling trace…

…and promptly shoved him right over the back of the couch.

In a display of wonderful grace and agility, the Titan flipped head over heels into a crumpled heap of tangled limbs. Eyes widening his hands quickly lashed out to grab the girl's cigarette before it toppled on to the carpeting and burned a hole in it. A look of blushing and embarrassed annoyance came over his face as he scrambled to his feet, to find the girl doubled over holding the back of the couch as if for balance. Hacking coughs were emerging from her mouth as if having trouble breathing.

And then the elevator door opened with a ding, revealing most of his team.

He gave the furiously coughing girl a smirk as he turned to them all, eyes lit up in triumph. That is until he realized just who was the one now holding the smoking gun, so to speak. He looked from the shocked team to his hand and then back again. Then he turned to glare at Ryce, "…Oh you sneaky little-"

"Rob! What the hell is wrong with you? She cannot breathe!" Nigel snapped at him, quickly producing the teenager's inhaler from one of his pockets as he ran over to a gasping and wheezing Ryce. So wrapped up in glaring at Gauntlet along with the rest of his teammates, they all missed Ryce grinning deviously at Rob from behind them. A split second before their gazes could turn sympathetic and fall on her, she was back to cringing and coughing painfully into one hand. Flushing in annoyance, Rob began to point at her accusingly.

"She-She tricked me! With blatant innuendo and averagely sized cleavage!"

"It's…o-okay," she sputtered out with a rattling cough as the smoke drifted lazily from his hand towards her face, "Really! I don't…mind. He can smo-" before she could finish her statement a new coughing fit over took her tiny frame. There was a furious gleam to Nigel's eyes when he turned and snatched the smoldering cigarette from Rob's hands crushing it in his own. For all purposes though, Rob might not even have noticed, too wrapped up in gaping at the girl's sheer audacity.

Then, with a gentle hand Nigel turned to direct the wheezing teen from the room. There, sitting atop the couch Rob had moments ago flipped over, was Metatron a large tub of popcorn in his lap, looking rather entertained by the whole situation. The alien doctor did not question the good natured wink he sent Ryce's way, it was just easier to not try and understand one Adam Matthews. Just as it was easier not to try and understand another of his teammates, Noel Collins, who had taken to quietly observing both Gauntlet and the coughing girl he was attending to. As they passed by them he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"As entertaining as it is to see Rob undergo a lecture that has the same impact as talking to a wall," there was an almost bored tone to his words as a mass of shimmer strands lashed out towards Ryce, who had only time to give a surprise squeak before they lashed around her fingers. Gently, but firmly they pulled apart the index from the middle and held them up to Scalpel's line of sight, to reveal a yellow-brown stain between the two digits. There was a moment of confusion, before the realization dawned on the Titan's face, going from surprise to annoyance fairly quickly. Ryce, meanwhile, just stared back as if mute, mind working furiously to come up with another means to get out of this. There was none. She craned her neck back to glare at the white haired man frowning at her and still displaying the tobacco stains on her hand.

"Oh, you suck so very very much…"

* * *

"NO!" came a cry of sheer horror. It was shrill and pained, the protest of someone losing something quite near and dear to them.

Tim Drake's voice answered in alarmed annoyance, "Ryce! Get your hand out of the garbage disposal!"

In the Tower kitchen, Metatron proceeded to laugh at the look of agonized distress that had come over his younger friend's face as she sat on the counter, hand hovering just above the drain. The grinding sound of the blades destroying her smokes came to an instant stop, leaving her to just stare miserably into the basin.

"Do you have any idea how pathetic you are acting?" Tim asked.

Looking up from where she was crouched, Ryce let out a small growl. Tim's answer to it was to gaze back at her coolly. Not breaking her stare, she sat up a bit and swung her legs around so as to sit on the countertop, "I love how I can't have a cigarette 'cause it's illegal for 2 more months…but a grown man running around and endangering the life of a ten year old boy clad in some scaly green under-roos in the middle of the night is not legally questionable."

"For the last time I HAD PANTS!" Robin shouted back as if somehow being louder would end her incessant need to bring up his predecessor's costumes.

If anything it seemed to add more fuel to the indignant fire that was raging in her eyes. Pointing dramatically across the room she announced, "Oh look! A homicidal clown! Go poorly dressed minor! I'll be over here while you're being beaten to death with a crowbar!"

Not for the first – and we gather not for the last – time, the entire room grew quiet and just stared at her. Most obvious in their astonishment at the girl's lacking tact was Robin whose jaw just hung open in surprise and eyes threatened to fall out of his head.

"…That is something you should file under 'Things that Ryce doesn't say out loud'…" Noel spoke up with a resigned tone.

And then there was Metaton quick to point out the more important factor as he tapped a rectangular packaged into his one hand nonchalantly beside her, "You're mixing up the Robins again."

"I don't care! I want nicotine damn it!" Ryce growled back as she pouted from her space on the counter. Ignoring Noel's rolling eyes or Tim's command to deal with it, her attention finally came to rest on Adam. She watched as he removed something from the pack he had been tapping and place it between his lips. Without so much as lifting a finger, the cigarette tip smoldered and smoke began waft into the air, as he just grinned back at her glaring face.

"What?"

He had approximately .03 seconds before she had thrown herself off the counter and tackled him to the floor, "Gimme!"

"Met! Don't tease her!" Nigel barked at the crumpled pile of demi-humans on the floor, the smaller of which was grappling for either the lit cigarette or the packet he had attempted to return to his pocket. Shrugging the best he could while attempting to keep her desires out of reach, he nodded. In and instant, both the pack and the single lit smoke became ash with a little pop of light and heat. Ryce's struggles stopped and she simply sat, more or less in his lap, looking for all the world like a small child who has just been informed that Christmas has indeed been canceled. A low, keening whimper was let out as she looked at him with heartbreaking, wide eyed disappointment.

"Aww…Ryce," Metatron said comfortingly with a kind smile back, "I keep telling you…Aura was better at that than you…"

Annoyance replaced her disappointed sadness instantly as she frowned at him. Soon enough though, she had changed tactics, still ignoring the rest of the team who were shaking their heads or rolling their eyes at her.

"Adaaaaaaam," she practically purred in a singsong manner.

"Ryyyyyce," he grinned back already knowing what was coming.

"C'mon…go out and buy me a pack of cigarettes…I'll do anything you want…a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g," she murmured looking up at him with pleading eyes.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, as the looks of exasperation turned into something else entirely. Noel finally broke it with a stare that bordered on disgust and disbelief, "….did you just prostitute yourself for a nicotine fix?"

"I was talking more along the lines of making him some more croissants, but hey, that's works too."

"…Metatron don't buy her anything," Noel ordered.

Eyes flaring she turned and gave him a dirty look, "Bite me, Oedipus!"

"And so it comes down to who can offer the most moonbread in exchange for cigarettes to minors. I knew this day would come," Met nodded sagely, cutting off any response the white haired Meta may have had for the teenager's dig.

"You_ knew _this day would come?" Gar asked, stupefied by the absurdity of the situation, while Nigel walked over and pulled Ryce unceremoniously out of Adam's lap and back to her feet. In a decidedly bratty move, she pulled her arm back and proceeded to storm off, ignoring the tall alien as he followed and badgered her. Also ignored were the exasperated stares and single look of concern that remained behind her in the kitchen

"You cannot possibly be this stupid!" Nigel snapped at her, "Asthma….You. Have. Asthma. Why would you even think smoking was a good idea?"

Ryce did not respond outside a small growl, she needed to get away from this all. It was crashing on her all of a sudden. It was too loud…too loud and too much with everything else. Yet, the doctor remained oblivious to her agitation as she stalked from hall to hall, one destination in mind. It would be quiet there…she could focus properly there. His words came in dribs and drabs (_"…adverse affects…nicotine…health risks…secondary…blah…blah…blah")_ never quite making sense. And how could it really? She could pretend for now that the edge could have been taken off with a few puffs…but she knew better. God, had Adam been right. It was _**bad**_ again.

Finally she found her room, the door open a crack to reveal cool dark and above all else inviting darkness. She slipped into it let it cover her like velvet.

"Ryce I am not done talking to y-"

"I. AM," she growled out and her eye flashed, the door slamming and locking it Nigel's face. She'd apologize later…when the world around her was cured of this tilt-o-whirl like disease that had effected the room around her…when she didn't hear a toddler gasping as his mother held a pillow over him just to make him stop screaming…when she didn't feel her flesh crawl as a twelve year old boy watched the growing light of the approaching train, the sneaker stuck in the rails at his feet forgotten. She shrank into the corner and closed her eyes, cringing, as that same boy spent the last few seconds he had listening to his friends scream, his bladder letting go in warm terror. Gods…she could _**feel**_ it …when had it gotten this bad?

She stood the world swimming. This has to stop…a shaky hand grappled for her jacket…she'd fix it. She'd make sleep come. The door slammed shut behind her as she left wincing at the sound and the impact of the train.

* * *

Hours had past since the little tantrum-esque scene in the Tower kitchen. Dinner had come and gone, set out meticulously and quite good.

Ryce had not joined them.

Not that this had bothered Noel. Given her bratty, snide attitude from earlier, he had actually been glad for it. One tantrum, nicotine withdrawal fit induced or not, was one too many for the meta. Even after dinner had been done he was not too worried when not eating with them turned into not seeing her at all for the remainder of the evening. After all, she was still here somewhere…someone had done the dishes. No doubt she was off sulking. Had he not ventured out of his room at two in the morning for a bottle of water he might have continued to assume that. The tinkering sound of class exploding on the floor obliterated said assumption.

The smell hit him the second he walked into the kitchen. A spicy, woody scent…the slightly biting odor of good whiskey. The room reeked of it. It wasn't hard to see why either. The explosion of glass had been the bottle of it that had no doubt moments before been perched precariously close to the table edge. He had not startled the girl sitting there swaying slightly as she stared in muddled confusion at the broken glass and the pool of brown liquid in which they laid. There were papers all over the flat surface before her, one gripped in her hand. It was easy to see Ryce had momentarily forgotten it had been present and ripped that paper out from under it. With a low moan she leaned forward, her hands – clumsy, drunk hands Noel's mind realized – reached forward to simply start grappling at the shattered shards.

He snapped at her harshly, as one would a small child reaching cluelessly to touch an open flame, "Don't touch that!"

It worked. She flinched away from it, sitting back into the chair so quickly that she nearly over balanced and fell backwards. The same hand that hand been reaching out to clean up her mess latched tightly to the back of her chair, steadying her. With regret he saw as he approached that the volume of liquid pooling on the floor was minimal. A glare ripped across his face as he stared at Ryce. She'd already drank most of the bottle it seemed. Glancing up at him with a cool stare like she currently was, he could see the hazy and yet not at all unawares look in her eyes.

"S'mthin' the matter?" she asked, words heavy but not slurred too strongly.

"You're drunk."

She chuckled at the observation, shaking her head slowly. Already she was twisting back in her chair to return to the small mountain of papers before her, "Aye…completely pissed. I'll pass out b'the time m'done wit' this work for my dad prob'ly. Clean up glass in the morn."

There was a dragging sound as he pulled out a chair to sit across from her. Yet she still paid him little to no mind. Eyes scanning the papers littering the table he found stacks and stacks of names and information. Ages, blood types, professions, and in larger red font? Date, time, and Cause of death. Sobering work for someone in such a state he thought, "You're a very articulate drunk. Your accent is thicker though."

"Aye…where's Adam?" she asked.

"Gone. Rob bumped into him…tripped him into the computer. The spark triggered a jump."

There was no missing the disappointment even through the alcohol-induced daze on her face. Yet, she kept shifting through her papers, marking them occasionally, and piling them this way in that in a system Noel had yet to see a pattern to. Annoyance laced his tone when he spoke, "Do you plan on giving me a half baked reason on why I shouldn't drag your ass to Tim right now? I assume you knew that if we're not going to let you smoke that there's a rule regarding drinking yourself into a poisoned coma as well..."

Ryce gave a flippant, dismissive shrug of her shoulders, "S'better than some the other ways of copin'…down right tame in fact."

"Like 'allergy shots?'" he asked feeling his temper building with her indifference. Then he sat and waited for the denial and excuses to come from the veiled accusation. He waited on the outrage at his assumption or at his invasion of her privacy.

They never came though. Instead, the hands diligently – if not a bit clumsily – shifting through the documents paused, not tensed just merely stopped. Turning to look to him, she tilted her head to the side, a surprisingly slight and delicate movement considering how intoxicated she was. Slowly, a knowing smile worked its way across Ryce's face, her glassy eyes flickering with bitter amusement.

"…'xactly like 'allergy shots' actually."

"You were a junky."

"…aye…'mongst other things," she nodded.

"You don't seem too bothered by my knowing."

"Aye again…'cause the key word was '_were_'…haven't touch anythin' stronger then that in ova a year," Ryce said quietly, gesturing to the sticky sharp mess her bottle had left on the floor, "M'not bothered by it…cause s'done. S'dead…got other ways of fixin' m'self."

"You think drinking yourself stupid fixes anything?" he asked raising an eyebrow, he didn't mean for it to sound so condescending, but it was there.

Her stare was calm and quiet. It was oddly piercing in spite of the drunken sway of her body ever so slightly from one side to the other. There was still that bitter humor there…that laugh that did not reach the glass eyes looking through him. When she finally did speak…there was weariness creeping into her voice.

"…Mark Cowell."

"Wha-"

She cut him off quickly enough, "Name…Mark Cowell…age: twelve…he had an allergy t'cats…liked soccer and a girl named Natalie…Time of death: 5:34.27…Cause of Death: Struck and killed by a train…there one second…red mist the next. The bigges' piece o' him they find is gonna b'the foot left in his sneaker. Tha's what I got to see this afternoon…tha's what I got to hear and feel…a lil kid dying on a set of tracks. And he's only one…

"I hear them…I hear the world dyin', I _feel_ it…everyday day, every second. All the time. After awhile… I can't even close my eyes without it pressin' down on me…chokin' me. I jus' wanna sleep…I jus' wanted quiet. The longer m'awake…the worse it gets. All those things I pumped in'ta m'blood made it go away, cause I could'en think. I could'en feel. Good whiskey s'not as a effective…beggars can't be choosers," Ryce whispered quietly, staring down at her hands and her work, face slack and empty. There was a horrid blankness that was not quite resignation in her eyes; it made Noel's skin crawl in how much it was like looking at a corpse.

"…he does nothing. Your father knows this…and he does nothing. He…gives you paperwork to fill out while you have the world pounding down on your head…when you haven't slept in-" there was barely concealed anger weaving through his increasingly agitated tone when he paused, realizing she had not mentioned when exactly she had last rested.

"…3 days," she said dully picking up her pen once more and setting it back to the sheaves. Before she could so much as make a mark, however, a shimmer strand had flicked out and seized the pen, flinging it carelessly away from the table. That slack, dull gaze fell on him, a glimmer of tired annoyance flickering for just a moment. As soon as it had come it was gone though, and she was looking away. A shaky breath was sucked into her lungs and released, as she shook her head as one would to a naïve child that was about to be told some unpleasant truth. It startled him a bit to realize moments later that he was not exactly too far off the mark in that assessment.

"I know the story about your mum…the day she died…what she asked Maxwell t'do," she admitted quietly, not lifting her eyes to meet his, "I watched you tell Raven when y'first came here…s'one of the few times I felt wrong watchin' you all, y'know? One of the times where I wish I had'en. That was the first time I felt like I was spyin' on all of you…" she gave another one of those bitter chuckles…it was such an ugly sound, "…few years later…it made me see things 'bout m'self I did'en wanna see…

"The truth s'hard and cold Noel…s'steel…and maybe for your mum it wasn't the right thing. But sometimes…sometimes no matter how god damn cruel it is…s'better than the lies that make you feel good. You get addicted to those lies Noel…they're no better than the shite I was shootin' into m'arm. Don't offer up anythin' b'sides that one moment of syn-thet-tic happiness…cause y'_know_ they're lies and y'_know_ that eventually you are going to crash and you're gonna crash hard.

"Eventually you get to the point where even though y'_know_ the truth_,_ you need to hear them anyway. The mouth they're falling out of, s'never going to mean them and you fuckin' _**know**_ that. But still, you keep hearing it for long enough, y'imagine in some desperate lil' corner of your mind that one day…one day all this grovelin' and pissin' and appeasin' is going to actually matter. That some act o'God s'goin' to change what they _know_ about you and they're gonna care. You hear it enough and s'not the belief that's hooked you…you don't believe 'cause that would make stupid AND pathetic…s'that want…s'wantin' to believe that holds you, that ties you down. You do such terrible, terrible things 'cause of that want…you make yourself blind to such horrible acts…and one day? You open your eyes and find s'too late to amputate cause the infection s'everywhere."

Now, she did look up at him, and he saw the tears swimming at the corners. Angry, bitter, self loathing tears. He understood the detachment now; saw she had no choice anymore if she wanted to keep hold to any semblance of balance and sanity. There was something of pity in him, even after she had sat there admitting to being a voyeur to one of his most private matters. Because even worse than the pathetic situation he saw the girl in…even worse than that was the clear and lucid awareness she had of it even when she was barely sober enough to sit up straight. Maybe she saw this pity. It very well could have been what finally dropped her eyes away from his in shame as she whispered,

"Sometimes the truth is better…because it cuts you off…"

"I…I….I jus' wanna sleep….I jus' w-w-want quiet," she whimpered burying her face into her hands, fingers clutching desperately at her scalp. The world was spinning for her…and the dull rush of pain and whispers beneath her drunken blur, was not fading. Tears fell over her eyelashes to drip uselessly to the kitchen table, pattering and ruining the very work she had been so intent upon finishing. Why couldn't he go away…why was he sitting there watching her…she didn't want pity…she didn't want company…she just wanted the world for one moment to just stop and let her find quiet. No more blood and tears and gut cramping terror…just quiet. Please stop…please stop…please stop…pleasestop pleasestop pleasestoppleasestop-pleasepleaseplease-stopstopstop .

And then the world fell silent.

For a moment, Ryce thought perhaps the stress of it all had ruptured her ear drums…it had happened before though under much more intense circumstances. But she did not need ears to hear the chorus of death; in fact it had nothing to do with them at all. Even if they had, beneath that earth cracking quiet there was something. Sounds that came to her in a sudden rushing clarity in the sudden stillness. The ticking of the kitchen clock, her hiccupping and hitched breath…even Noel's breath and…

"Ryce," came the undoubted feminine voice from beside her, and suddenly she was aware of the soft hand resting against her temple. Lifting her head, Ryce found Noel had apparently left and returned with aid in tow. Raven looked at her with mildly concerned neutrality. The angel made an attempt to sit back in her chair, only for the world to positively lurch in a wave of nausea. The same pale hand grappled a shoulder and steadied her back into the chair, making her realize she had quite nearly toppled out of it again.

"Wha'zit?" she slurred finding the silence to dampen whatever sobering effects that the noise had brought.

"It is a block…a mental shield, which had you been honest with us, could have been put up days ago," Raven said as she all put lifted the girl from her seat with that steadying hand. Ryce followed obediently, wincing at the spiraling tilt of their blurry kitchen. The last thing she recalled before the world faded into a soothing black out was nodding numbly and murmuring drunkenly, "Watch t'glash…"

* * *

She did not dream

* * *

Morning…the sky still grey with the retreating night…it was a good time for breakfast in a gull's world. Fish coming to the surface to feed, their silver flashing bodies glittering up in the dull sun. It was past such a time now, just coming to the end of it in fact as the sky began to lose some of the dusky muted colors of all but retreated night. It was past such a time and a large, old gull let out a cry of satiated hunger as he came to rest on the stone windowsill, a good roost high above the little island. Yes, it had been a good day so it gave another cry for that as well. Tomorrow would be a good day too perhaps, if a gull can think of such futures and it made to give a cry for this is well.

Instead it gave a startled, squawk as it hurtled gracelessly off its perch, kicked good and hard by something unseen and dark from behind. The gull fled and though it lasted no permanent injury, was sure to never sit on that sill again.

Beyond the window in the dark, still barren room a figureless lump shifted on the bed. The dull glow that had flickered briefly in the shadows faded along with a deep, sleepy growl of pained agitation. For anyone who has ever been in a state of inebriation so obliterating as to wake up with a hangover that feels as if they are being turned from the inside out, it was a sympathizing sound. Slowly, the shapeless thing seemed to unfurl from itself beneath the sheets letting out strange garbled snarls that probably were just as incoherent in their own language as they sounded in English.

After Ryce had finally worked herself up into a seated position, she sat in the quiet (abnormally so she realized in hungover, still half asleep confusion) trying to place herself. A hand rubbed roughly and clumsily at her sleep crusted eyes. A hand reached out, a well practiced movement that found her glasses in half seconds and placed them on a only a few more. It was then she noticed the note that had been tied to her wrist.

_The shield will remain up until you can construct your own. I will be instructing you on this every afternoon at 3 until this point. Do not be late. – Raven_

_P.S. It was your own stupidity that led to the way you feel right now so do not expect to simply shirk your duties today._

The previous night and her activities came back in a sickening flood, now understanding the lack of whispering rush. She removed the note and tossed it carelessly, all the while fighting back the urge dry heave unto her bedroom floor. In the end she won that battle, and made her shambling way to her bathroom.

It took Ryce less than an hour to both shower off the sour smell that seems to accompany all hangovers and complete her morning chores. A prayer of thanks went up to whatever power that be that this was allowed to be done with NO interaction or even sight of her 'sponsors' so to speak. When she returned to the cool, dark quiet of her room she breathed a sigh of utter relief, popping yet another aspirin into her mouth.

For a moment, she considered crawling sluggishly back into her bed and falling back into sweet oblivion. It was an idea quickly dismissed. All it would gain her is a few minutes of tossing and turning fitfully as her bed did its best imitation of a sea vessel…one that felt particularly as if it was undocked during a hurricane. No, the attempt to sleep would be pointless and end in her probably throwing up…something she had cared to avoid.

Quietly, she instead made her way across the room, passing the hovering glowing orb she had placed carefully a top an end table, the only piece of furniture besides her bed present. Her destination was a stack of boxes sitting in one corner, dropped there unceremoniously by the Marine the day before. Splitting the first open, she found a myriad of unlabeled books, pictures, and a single almost ancient looking checkered board. The game board was removed delicately, and placed atop another box as if it were made of glass. On top of this was placed a black velvet pouch, the tell tale, clinking sound of the chess pieces inside soft even in the silence. With this out of the way she shoved a book or two aside and proceeded to grasp a stack of pictures from the countless others inside.

From here she worked methodically and silently, tacking one picture after the other along the bare wall. Faces stared back frozen in various states of expression. Happy, sad, angry, indifferent, many just plain unawares it seemed that their image was being captured. No picture was the same or even went so far as to contain the same people. There was no pattern or rhyme or reason in any of it besides the fashion in which they were displayed, in straight slightly over lapping lines, like the scales of some massive fish or reptile. One after the other after the other after the ot-

"_**Do you play**_?"

Ryce was startled by the question…mostly being as she was alone within her room. Unsettled as she was for the briefest of moments, she did not allow it to show as she turned to look in the direction the quiet voice had originated from. Mismatched eyes came to rest on the orb hovering several inches above an end table. Immediately she saw something had changed and was off about it. Its typical swirling, smoky depths now pulsed black.

"_**I said…**_"

"I heard you the first time," she said though not impolite or unkind as she returned to her task of tacking pictures in that odd scale like fashion to her wall, "Yes I play...my father taught me. Interested in a game, then?"

"_**...Do you know who I am?**_" the voice asked, a bored sort of semi-interest to it,

She shrugged, another picture was tacked up, and her left eye glowed faintly. There was a dragging sound behind her as a box was pushed before the blackened artifact. With an air of delicateness the ancient, checkered board floated over and landed on top, the crystal like pieces arranging themselves neatly after they spilled from their softly lined bag, "Aye…I know exactly who you are…1…d-four."

And the white pawn slid across the smooth surface

* * *

**Author note**: Yea…been busy with work, switching jobs, hence the delay. There's also the fact that I brought a WoW subscription…which is probably a little closer to the mark as to what took so long.

MASSIVE thanks to Slothsoul for helping me write this, letting me use Metatron and being an awesome sounding board and person. Read and review if you care to =D


	11. Chapter 11

_She was cold._

"_Ali…I told you to get your stupid fuckin' ass in the bathroom to get ready."_

_So very, very cold._

"_Ali? You better not be crying again! I've had it! Get over here and I'll give you something to cry abo-"_

_He fell quiet behind her, the words dead on his lips. She knew why._

"…_oh my g-…what did you…y-you…oh my god…what did you do! WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU BITCH!"_

_The world heaved and screamed as she turned to look at him. She wished it was not so cold…even the warm blood splattered on her face felt cold._

"…_You don't deserve this," she whispered tiredly, lifting her arm once more._

_A gunshot._

_

* * *

_

Ryce glanced up at the large screen before her in quiet concentration. A litter of papers was once more laid out in eclectic piles in front of her. Once again, she was flitting through them and marking, and flitting through them and marking.

It was a different Ryce though. A clearer one if that made any form of sense. The purple, bruise-like markings beneath both of her no longer sunken eyes had faded into the healthy, fleshy pink that was her natural complexion. The slightly scattered and twitchy movements of those same eyes had also seemed to fade over the two weeks that had past since Noel had found her all but drowning herself at the kitchen table. Two weeks since she had found herself sitting before the man's long standing significant other, being instructed carefully in the meditative arts that kept Raven's own powers so well in check.

And then, after that in the days that followed? Hands slowly began to steady; muscle – however lean and slight – began to build around the jutting bones, beneath flesh that was losing its pallid and nearing waxy hue. The skittish urge to jump and start with every unexpected sound and movement had left her a week prior. Ryce could not quite remember the last time she felt so…there.

Sleep…it really was one hell of a trip.

Not that everything was aces, she knew. There were still days where her empathic, new mentor of sorts' solution could not hold the waters at bay, days where things flattened and slithered themselves through the cracks, like rats through the space under the door. Past memories that belonged to only her got through, like the one from this morning's session. Less frequently, current truths that belonged only to a life that had just ended got through. But that was not quite right was it? They also belonged to a man-thing who sat in his office with his almost elegant hands folded over one another atop his desk, smiling a smile she saw in the mirror each day.

She shuddered a bit at that, gooseflesh crawling across her arms in quick succession. It was not quite clear to her why the recognition of her resemblance to her father would cause such a reaction, but there it was all the same. With her eyes shut, she pushed the glowing orb slightly away from her workspace, the cords and cables running from it to the CPU some feet away falling from the table with a thud.

Above her, on the large monitor typically used for the Titans own investigations, was a young tanned man with black hair and blue eyes that almost seemed to glow. He smiled at someone off screen, mouth moving soundlessly, completely unaware of her watching with vague and muted interest. The world containing this handsome, young man in his black jacket and tie was on her to-do list somewhere she was sure. A quick scan through the pile of papers verified this. As she scribbled, on screen a striking woman appeared as well, her stormy blue eyes regarding the tanned man without words, her long white dress swaying fluidly with her movements. More obvious than all of this was the extended swell of her very pregnant stomach and the hand that rest with subconscious protectiveness over it. Ryce paid neither figure any more attention. As one hand began to scribble down first the universe's identifying number and then the young man's name, the other shifted one of the artifact's rings delicately

She only got as far as looping the bottom of a cursive 'J,' when the new world flickering on the screen above her caught her attention. There was an older man on the monitor now, clad in a blue scrubs with round coke-bottle glasses perched atop of a large and slightly hooked nose. A doctor or nurse perhaps of some sort. He was consulting a chart being held up for him by another's hands, mouth moving just as soundlessly as the dark haired youth's from before. Pale – almost colorless– eyes were roving diligently over these charts as a set of sterile gloves were snapped down over his hands. It was not a very interesting world it seemed…but there was something about the intensity of those pale, colorless eyes that compelled her.

Curiously, the hand still resting on one of those rings nudged another. Instantly, sound was syncing up with the movements of the doctor's lips on screen as he was mid sentence.

"...seventy two hours since hydration and last recorded R.E.M sleep cycle. Project Number 42156/Subject L, shows signs of delirium and general mental and physical deterioration. The time is now three hours, fifty-six minutes, and seventeen seconds ante meridiem. Dr. Levins will be administrating Experiment Number 567: The Effects of Sulfuric Acid on Subject L's Lower Extremities. We will begin with an 85% concentration and increase by increments of .05% with each application. At your leisure Dr. Levins."

Then, the unseen Subject L began to **scream**.

There was nothing human in it...nothing animal…nothing Ryce had ever even heard in this world or any other (_oh, such pretty lies you remember don't you remember this sound he sounded like this like nothing like this pretty lies purple screaming eyes he begged begged begged he begged you heard those EYES-_) Subject L let loose a watery, shrill shriek cutting off the spiral of thoughts. Over and over and over, it screamed out in unspeakable, wordless agony.

Those colorless eyes did not as much as blink.

The screen phased out before her in a haze of fizzling colors and the screams were cut off. Frowning, Ryce looked down to the orb and then back up at the screen where a message had appeared in bright and bold – almost angry – red.

**ACCESS RESCTRICTED**

**VIEWING BLOCKED**

Instantly, she found herself growing annoyed as she tried to adjust the rings to no avail. The message remained.

"Wanker," she called the orb crankily before pushing herself away from the table and stretching, "Ancient artifact of untold knowledge and time…and it bloody comes with parental blocks."

"What comes with parental blocks?" a voice asked from somewhere behind her.

Ryce turned to find both Beast Boy and Gauntlet entering the living space looking curiously up at the screen. In her turn, the arm that had been stretching nudged the rings on the orb into motion once more. Instantly, the somehow subtly hostile message on the monitor faded away into a sea of swirling colors. Out of the corner of her good eye she could see those colors begin to clear and form the shapes of a new and out of focus world.

She waved at the screen dismissively before beginning to gather the papers up, "Nothin'…just doing some work is all. Was just about to take a-"

Whatever it was she was about to take however was lost in a jubilant cry of, "Oh my God! Titans Monkeyverse!"

Her expression fell into exasperated aggravation before she even turned back to see what it was Robert was enthusiastically now pointing at. On screen were indeed a team of familiarly costumed monkeys and apes, which were screeching and hooting. The masked Robin-Chimp pointed out as he shrieked to a much larger Slade-Gorilla in what was as dramatic and threatening of a pose as a small chimp in spandex could manage. Most of the intensity was lost however due to his team, in particular the Gauntlet-Ring Tailed Lemur who was picking mites out of the Savior-Baboon's fur much to the white primate's annoyance.

"Technically, it would be a Titans _Primate_verse," Ryce pointed out reaching to grab at the orb and shut it down, "Half of those aren't even monk-Aye! Don't touch that!"

Rob apparently had been struck momentarily deaf, since it was rather difficult to imagine him not listening and disobeying a command when he heard one. The orb was maneuvered unfamiliarly and clumsily in his hands as he began to twist and turn the rings every which way, looking up at the screen, awaiting more amusement.

"Where's the channel changer on this thing?"

Glaring venomously, Ryce swiped her hand at the object, "I said **don't** touch it, Rob. It's not a toy."

Her fingers managed to graze a ring. Just as they were about to clamp shut, however, the artifact was pulled away from her hand and tossed over her head to an awaiting Garfield. Promptly, this shifter began to imitate his teammate's previous handling and attempts to focus in on a new world. On screen appeared a dimension entirely composed of what appeared to be cats…talking ones…poorly talking ones.

"LOLZ I cAn haz chzburGer plz!" a black kitten squealed darting across the screen

"Do. Not. Want. chzburger. OmgWTFBBQ!" was the response from a spastic grey tabby.

Eyes widening behind her glasses, Ryce once more dashed forward, making a grab for the orb with a growl, "NO. Lolcatsverse is going OFF. Right-bloody-now."

Before she was within arms reach though, she knew what was going to happen. The look on Garfield's face told her what game was about to commence. So, when the shifter tossed the – delicate – artifact back over her head to Gauntlet's outstretched hands she was not actually surprised. Inwardly cringing and waiting for it to smash to the ground, but not surprised. Temper climbing, she reeled about once more, and let out a decidedly inhuman snarl at the blond as he gave her his back and began to fiddle with it once more.

"Now, let's see…what if I move this…ah! There we go. Hmm…wonder what type this one is?"

Beast Boy nodded smiling in amusement as they watched the goings on across the screen every so often passing it to the other person. With each pass, they were careful to hold the orb high enough to be out of Ryce's ever clamoring reach. Given her diminutive size though, this was not too difficult a feat for either Titan.

Ryce glanced up mid-jump and caught sight of an alternate Noel and Raven standing about, looking quite awkward in a large room as they watched something off screen. They were clad in rather ordinary – if not dated – clothing, contrasting sharply with the still possessed bizarre hair colors. A pink dress and white button up cardigan for Raven and a half zipped tan jacket covering a light blue shirt and sweater vest for a tortoise shell glasses sporting Noel. They looked like they had been caught out in the rain, as well. It was a familiar scene, Ryce thought. And then with growing horror – no pun intended – realized why when another wandered into view.

"_I'm just a sweet transvestite…From Transexual, Transylvania," _he crooned.

Immediately, Robert and Garfield were in proverbial stitches, letting out caws of laughter as Ryce closed her eyes as if in pain.

She glared at them hatefully as once more they began to fiddle with the orb's rings, "I really REALLY could have gone through my life NOT seeing Tim in a sequined corset, fishnets, and silk skivvies…thank you for taking that shred of sanity away from me."

On the monitor, the screen switched yet again, but Ryce was no longer paying the slightest bit of attention as she circled about the two. Face red, Ryce jumped up waving a reaching hand towards the orb being dangled above her head. Temper and volume finally flared as she barked out leaping vainly at the always out of reach relic, "Rob, bugger off! Give it here b'fore y'go an' cock it all up, y'soddin' nance!"

Both of the men looked down at her quietly for a moment, Robert still holding the Orb high above his head and out of her reach. They stared, the loud outburst wiping the amused and teasing smirks right off their expressions.

And then they both promptly began to laugh in her face.

"You lose all grasp of American slang when you get angry," Rob said in delight.

"It's like…a pissed off, British Chihuahua!" Garfield said whipping tears of mirth from his eyes as both completely ignoring the brilliant shade of red – near purple now, really – Ryce was turning.

"…I hate you," she growled at them both, visibly trying to calm and lighten her accent once more, "Fine! Y'know…._you_ know what? I hope you find something that gives you both a stroke. I really do! I hope you find a hell dimension and what you see makes your brains come pouring out your stupid heads."

That said, she turned about and began to re-gather the work she had dropped in her haste to snatch the orb back from their hands. If X or her father had been here and seen it being treated like a television…she did not even want to think about the reaction that would come from THAT one – even though she knew full well Azrael watched his soaps on the damn thing. Behind her, the boys were still yammering away, enthralled at the amusing worlds they were getting glimpses into. Ignoring them, she snatched up another pile angrily, slamming it down a top the other documents.

A chuckle rang out from Robert, "Wow…there is something so very creepy about that look on Raven's face as she feeds 'other-you' fruit, Gar. Think Noel would have a coronary if we showed him you two making doe eyes at each other here?"

Ryce straightened up. She was missing something…

"What DOESN'T Noel have a coronary over?" Beast Boy responded, "Wow…look, Rob. You and Noel actually get along here it looks like…never thought THAT would happen."

_Alex…things that are BAD for $1000_? chimed something in the back of her mind, as the pieces began to fall into place. Not bothering to turn her head and glimpse at the screen, her voice came out in a cautious, wary tone.

"Rob…what universe are you two looking at?" she asked.

From over her shoulder she heard him, "Hm? It says Earth um….3…7…something. The numbers are kinda small."

Now, turning finally to look up and see herself, Ryce could see what it was that Garfield had been talking about. On the monitor, one Robert Candide and one Noel Collins, were walking – strolling – along Jump's street. Standing close. This Rob talked animatedly - though they couldn't hear what about over the din of the busy city around them. Noel, by contrast did not talk at all. The normally agitated look he had perfected for the blond was noticeably missing, as the meta instead nodded a small content smile on his face.

"…Earth 3-7-1?" Ryce asked face falling in realization as Gauntlet nodded at her. looking confused at her expression. She dropped the papers unceremoniously to the floor and bee-lined back over to the two, her hand out.

"Play time over. Give it back now," she ordered as Robert's face shifted from curious to almost petulant. Garfield however, did not even turn to look at her, still staring up at the screen with a confused tilt to his head.

"….why are you two holding hands?" Beast Boy asked and was ignored as Ryce tried to roughly grab at one of the rings. This time she caught it much to the other blonde's annoyance and cry of protest.

"Okay, mini-genderbent-Noel, you need to chill out," Robert said pulling the Orb back towards himself with one hand while she tried to pull it in the opposite direction.

Ryce gave no sign of conceding the little game of tug-o-war that had begun between them, grappling with two hands, "Candide, god damn it! M'not kidding! Turn this world off before-"

And this was the point where 371-Robert decided something remarkably rare. For once, he had gotten tired of talking.

Mostly because he had decided, instead, to push his listening counterpart up against a wall and press his lips to his in a heated kiss.

Ryce sighed…she was however quite fascinated with how far both Robert and Garfield could drop their jaws.

"Dude!" Beast Boy shouted, looking up in surprise.

"AH! What…Why….who," Gauntlet sputtered incoherently, before turning his gaze back down the teenager and her artifact, "What is wrong with you!"

Ryce's eyes narrowed, a small blush on her face as the 371's inhabitant continued to…publically and affectionately enjoy themselves, "I told you to give it back didn't I! Now let m-"

"Turn it off!" Robert yelled beginning to – now roughly – pull once more on the artifact and its controlling rings.

"I would if you let the damn thing go, Rob!" Ryce growled back trying to smack his hands away and adjust the controls herself with one hand, and tug the upper most ring with the other

"Why would you KNOW what universe this is anyway! What, do you freaking watch!" he carried on, Gauntlet activating and spreading over the arm trying to yank back on the bottom ring. Beast Boy for his part was still staring up at screen in head tilted confusion, as the couple continued unaware of their inter-dimensional audience.

"Go to hell!" Ryce growled back, her left eye beginning to glow angrily, "M' tellin' y'one more time! Let go before you break i-"

And then the ring they were both tugging on snapped.

A bright spark and crack filled the air as the artifact rocketed away from both blonds, who could only stare down in quiet, wide eyed shock at the two halves of ring they were holding. Across the room a rather harried looking Terra emerged in the doorway.

"What the hell are you all yelling abo-" was all the geokinetic managed before the speeding artifact smashed right into her face and ricocheted off of it into a wall across the room. Ryce cringed following its path with her eyes, vaguely impressed with the bulk of the orb's sturdiness. The impression was short lived when her eyes fell back to the still sparking half ring in her hand as well as the one still in Robert's. Those same eyes widened in horror as she snatched the other piece from his hand and quickly scrambled across the room to where the hissing and vibrating orb had come to rest.

Instantly, – ignoring the blond man's insistent cries that she fix it – she attempted to snap the broken orbital back into its place. More sparks flew up at her face as if the sphere were actually enraged over its poor treatment. The rage building up over her was just as short lived as her previous awe over the artifact's strength, when she looked up at the monitor once more to find the screen flickering from scene to scene within the world. Apparently, it was now stuck on the parameters Rob had unfortunately some how managed to set it to before it had broken.

Noel and Rob on a picnic feeding one another food.

Noel and Rob at the movies…Rob was more interested in Noel's neck than the film.

Noel playing with Rob's hair as they cuddled on the couch watching television.

From the doorway, where a bleeding Tara was attempting to sit up with Garfield's flustered help, came the new voice of the resident doctor, "What is going on in here? Tara! What happened to your nos-"

Noel and Rob…there was a tub…and bubbles…rubber duckies.

And in the real world, there was a Blacktrinian doctor doubled over in hysterical laughter. Ryce could no longer help herself, it bubbled up and out of her before she could make any attempt to quell it. She joined him. The two halves of broken ring toppled to the floor forgotten as she held her sides and giggled uncontrollably.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY!" Gauntlet yelled over both of them, face burning red as he snatched up the rings himself and attempted to force them back onto the artifact. For a moment it appeared that Ryce was going to yell at him for doing so when earth 371's Robert began to hum what was definitely the famed children's "Rubber Ducky" song…and then his boyfriend begrudgingly joined in.

It was times like this that Ryce and Nigel could appreciate how soft the tower carpeting was as they fell over unto it laughing. Both were now incapable of any attempts at speech, just letting out continuous peals of hysterical laughter. Blushing furiously, Gauntlet did not even notice when the rings snapped back together around the artifact. Nor did he notice the electric crackle and odor that carried up from it when they did so. So focused in yelling at the two over his brutalized dignity, he also did not notice when the screen shifted again.

What he did notice, however, was the moaning cry of his own name in absolute rapture coming from an all too familiar voice up on the monitor.

* * *

Several floors down, Robin, Starfire, Raven, Savior, and Cyborg stood in the slowly climbing elevator, completely unaware of the chaos that was occurring in the living area above. Perhaps they may have been better able to hear the commotion if not for the tension and anger coming off one of their number in practical waves.

"Compensation to his estate. They cannot be serious. The man ATE CHILDREN and his wife has to gall to even SUGGEST a wrongful death suit against US!" Noel grieved to no one in particular.

Tim rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed as he thought back to the meeting that had just taken place. It was easy to see how well it had gone. Beside the smoldering Noel Collins, Raven reached out and placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

"She has gone around the bend, Noel. Everyone can see that."

"Yes," Starfire agreed nodding sadly, "She quite….um….fond of chocolate flavor based breakfast cereal."

Noel seemed ready to fall once again into a rant, but paused and looked over at the orange woman raising an eyebrow. Starfire, for her part, just smiled back pleasantly.

"What are y-"

"She means 'Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs,' Noel," Tim supplied, not bothering to wait for the question to completely finish. And though it was not for the reasons she intended Starfire successfully distracted the white haired man away from his annoyances and the up and coming rant that typically accompanied them. It was a good thing she had, seeing as they had finally arrived on the main floor of the Tower. No need to cause any more drama than needed after all, right? They could slip in and go about the rest of their day as calmly as possible. Tim was looking forward to the peace and quiet, perhaps spent in the company of the orange toned woman beside him. Perhaps, if he asked nicely, Ryce would be willing to fix them both up something small to picnic with out on the beach.

Instead, the second the elevator doors opened, he was greeted by the sounds of panting, moaning, and varying other noises not of the PG-13 variety. The masked hero could feel his temper flaring at the sight of at least four of his team staring up towards the monitor with varying looks of shock and in Gauntlet's case sheer horror. Even more annoying? The (underage) maid sitting on the floor looking up with wide eyes at the images accompanying the mid-coitus soundtrack.

"Have you all gone INSANE!" he barked out, storming forward, growing more annoyed when they did not so much as blink in reaction, "You are not watching PORN in the living with the 17 year old on the main frame comp-OH MY GOD!"

Up on the screen, a rather naked and….twisty….371-Robert Candide echoed Robin's sentiment.

Starfire let out an 'eep' and slapped her hand over her eyes as she retreated swiftly…running into a door frame.

Raven had no words, or even incoherent noises, to express her thoughts or explain the look on her face…several objects just glowed black and exploded.

And then they were silent outside of the continued sounds emerging from the monitor.

It was Cyborg who let out a sigh and strode forward. Without ceremony, he grabbed a hold of all the chords hooking the artifact up to the monitor and pulled. They popped out instantly and the large screen faded to black. With mild incredulity and exasperation he looked around at the group.

"….really? REALLY? None of you thought to just unplug it?" he asked.

Sheepish looks were abound in the room…except for Gauntlet who was still quite purple in his embarrassment and refusing to do much else other than glare daggers at Ryce.

Perhaps this would have continued if not for the strange, strangled sound that came from back towards the elevator. All eyes turned to Noel, who stood stock still, staring at the now black screen. A muscle beneath his eye gave a tick, another one of those odd chocking sounds emerging from his closed mouth, the jaw tense and teeth quite clearly gritted behind his lips. Without another word or sound he turned and walked back into the elevator, his movements oddly stiff. The doors closed with a ding.

Once again…silence

And then a much different group of choked back sounds broke it as several tried to hold back the snickering

"Your three, don't even THINK about it," Robin barked pointing at Nigel, Ryce and Beast Boy, before focusing solely upon Ryce, "YOU come with me."

Her eyes widened a bit at that and she opened her mouth in what was sure protest. Tim cut that off as well.

"NOW."

For a moment, Ryce's mouth open and closed soundlessly, not unlike a goldfish in a bowl. Quickly enough, her jaw snapped shut with an audible click as she stood movements stiff and angry. She followed the Titan leader out of the room in the same manner, sure to cast both Beast Boy and Gauntlet the most scathing of looks in her departure.

* * *

Approximately three hours of tense quiet had passed since….the 'incident' as Robert was want to refer to it. Approximately three hours of tense quiet and rather poorly concealed snickering from his teammates when they happened to pass by him. Gauntlet quickly discovered that he was quite sure he did not enjoy being on the other end of this. In fact, he was also quite sure that the next person he passed in the hall was going to be told so rather loudly.

The person ironically enough happened to be the other half of the cause of all this morning's troubles. Beast Boy however, was not chuckling at all as he made his way out of the room to his right looking back guiltily over his shoulder. When he finally turn back forward and caught sight of his teammate he nodded back towards the room.

"Just the guy I was going to go find," he said as Gauntlet craned his neck to see what it was the shifter had been nodding to. As if this morning's incident had decided to go on a rerun, he found the soul occupant to be none other than the newest resident of their tower. He could hear, even out in the hall, the unnecessarily forceful – undoubtedly angry – clicking of keystrokes as she typed away in front of a desktop computer. Needless to say, her expression matched the tone of typing, barely contained, incensed….in short, the half angel was pissed right off.

"Tim has her answering his email…and made her clean the kitchen and bathroom floors by hand for this morning with a tooth brush. Said she should know better than to do that kind of work out in the middle of the living room," the green shape shifter explained, wincing when her fingers gave a particular loud clack

Gauntlet lifted an eyebrow in surprise, "Isn't that a little harsh?"

"Yea…but no one can seem to find Noel now, so he's blaming that on her, too. She also decided to ask him mid-lecture if the police ever took issue with a millionaire bachelor living in a cave with a stripper pole and a preteen boy that he dressed up in 'pretty costumes.'"

"…The longer she's here, the more she reminds me of a vindictive, female Met. I'm not sure if I find her rather brilliant or incredibly stupid," Gauntlet said blinking.

"When Noel was last seen and capable of speech I heard him say she's an inconvenient mixture of both…you should go apologize, Rob," Beast Boy sighed, waving off Gauntlet's instant look of indignant surprise, "Don't look so shocked, man….I already did. It was OUR fault it happened after all. She did tell us not to touch it. Can't really blame her for copping an attitude with Tim over it when he got pissy at her."

Beast Boy was, of course, one hundred percent correct on this one. However, this did not mean that the Uberton hailing man had to _like_ that fact. Garfield could understand this…it was not as if the petite teenager ever made Robert Candide's life easier. Neither did she ever make quite the same effort to curb her oft biting idea of wit at his expense as she did with the other residents. Then again…Gauntlet did have a way of bringing that out in people.

Before one of the 'core' Titan members could nudge him towards apology again, Robert gave a sigh and walked past him and into the room. A satisfied and thankful expression lit across Garfield face….and then he speed walked as quickly away as possible. Apologizing WAS the right thing to do...but that did not mean the shifter wanted to be anywhere NEAR the scene of it while it occurred.

Completely disregarding his teammate's hasty retreat, Robert made his way into the room eyes watching Ryce's turned back. She gave no indication that she was aware of his presence as he inched closer. Anything he might have wanted to start off with saying, however, was cut sure when her voice quipped irritably.

"If you don't mind…the vindictive, female Metatron is busy being brilliantly stupid, Candide. Let's skip whatever you're going to do to and jus' get right to the part where m' aggravated."

His eyes widened a bit in surprise for only a second before he remembered a comment Nigel had made regarding her superior hearing some days ago. So far this was not exactly going quite how he had planned.

"…you and I have gotten off to a bad start," Robert pointed out a tad awkwardly as Ryce nodded in agreement, prompting him to continue, "Why don't we just start over without the mean-spirited name calling, humiliating and emasculating tactics, PMS grade mood swings and wow I am making this worse aren't I so I'm just going to stop and say that I'm sorry and hope you don't throw that soda can you are currently clutching at my head."

Ryce glared up at him in dry ill-amusement, looking quite ready to do just that. After a few tense moments, however, she simply sighed and shook her head, looking back to the screen before her. Fingers cracked at the joints with a loud pop before she was back to typing away at the keyboard.

"Apology accepted, Rob. However, for all your complaints about how I've treated you, you seem to forget that you've managed in the past few weeks to piss me off – I don't care if it was intentional or not so no retort is needed – to no end when Noel's not at your disposal, blackmailed me into a date, lost me my smoking habit, AND caused me to have to scrub the toilets in the place BY HAND. So yes…I accept your apology, but I will get back at you too…you won't know when it is coming or what form my revenge will take…but it will happen," by now a smirk had worked its way across her face, "I think you can understand and accept these terms, aye?"

For a moment he just stared at her as if contemplating her offer and the hand she was now extending. Soon enough though a smile cracked over his face and shook the offered hand, "Accepted."

"Good…now go grab a chair and help me passive-aggressively answer these emails inappropriately. Tim's bein' a right arse and I could use your talegravating skills," she said turning back to the screen

"Talegravating?" he asked doing as she asked and peering at the screen.

"Talentedly Aggravating," came the reply.

* * *

And so went the minutes, flying by a great deal quicker with the blond Titan's own brand of wit being thrown into the mix for email response. The original tension ebbed out with surprising ease and swiftness and soon Ryce was lounging back in her chair giggling and snickering at the responses Gauntlet wrote to some of the more inane questions Robin's fans always had in vast supply.

Robert opened and read aloud one of these said inanities chuckling tohimself along with the girl beside him, " Okay, here's the next one, 'HEY ROBIN! Hey man u got all those honeyz at ur place, an its not like u aint got anything goin with them, hook me up! You got that hotie maid workin it now, hows bout you get me her digits! C'mon, bro, dun let me down. Much love, -Met..."

There was a crunching sort of shriek that startled Gauntlet out of his reading of the email. A glance to the side found Ryce sitting straight up as if a pole had been suddenly inserted into her spine. The soda can she had been holding now crushed in her hand. Robert raised and eyebrow and glanced to the other hand resting on the desk to find it hooked into a rather lethal looking claw…which was now hooked into the end of a rough set of gouges it had left upon clenching down.

"...ahumanEnthusiast34," he finished still looking at her unsurely, "Um…you okay there?"

Instantly she seemed to deflate and blush a bit under his stare not meeting his gaze, "Yea…I um….that is….angel…thing…what's the next one!"

For once, Robert decided to go with in inner instinct and not question what had just happened. Instead he leaned back allowing her to seize the mouse and close the email, opening the next one up and effectively changing the subject.

_Dear Robin,_

_Hardcore nuzzling tiem nao?_

_-Lonely in New York_

With the air of a professional musician about to perform a concerto, he shooed her hands away from the technology. Without even pausing for thought he responded to poor old Lonely.

_Dear Lonely,_

_You have no idea how much I miss nuzzlin…Savior's been so cold :'( 10:00 pm Monday, meatpacking district, the place is called The Fuzzy Navel…bring bunny slippers. The safe word is 'Banana.'_

_- Robin_

At that Ryce let out a choked spurt of laughter ending in an almost snort like sound. This prompted them both to only to giggle harder as Ryce leaned her head down and hid her face against his shoulder, body shaking with laughter. The action finally allowed Rob to notice how much physically closer she had subconsciously shifted to him in the past few minutes. When she finally managed to reign in the uncontrolled giggling into a tapering off occasional burst she did not remove her resting head. Instead, she just turned a bit to allow herself view of the screen once more. His own laughter cut short as his mind went into a complete and utter blank at the affectionate, almost flirty, contact she was making. This…this was new.

"Um…uh….look at this one," he sputtered out quickly clicking a file at random, "It says 'I HaB fanAartZ 4 Uz!1!' from R0bnf4n1234…"

"Delete it," Ryce said waving a hand lazily though still making no effort to move, "No attachment emails…Captain Hot Pants' orders."

"Aw c'mon…I'm sure it's perfectly innocent," he replied clicking the email and attachment in spite of her warning. An annoyed grumble went up from her as the file opened up on screen.

"See!" Gauntlet said watching as the images popped up one by one on the screen, "You're too paranoid, look how cool some of these are…look at the one with Batman and R-"

The speakers crackled in a deep, doom-promising laugh.

And that's when the fanart of the dark knight and his young ward became pornart.

Hundred of megabytes of violent…disturbing…GRAPHIC…pornart.

The sound that emerged from Gauntlet could be closest described as a squawk, where as Ryce made no sound. She just stared in horrified, jaw agape shock. Meanwhile, the speakers continued to cackle and the retina burning images and virus warnings continued to flare up on the monitor.

"TURN IT OFF!" she finally managed to shriek out right into Robert's ear.

"I'm trying!" he barked back one hand flying up to guard the assaulted side of his head, though it did nothing to alleviate the shrill ringing now there.

The thing to keep in mind being that 'trying' to Gauntlet apparently meant mashing all the keys on the keyboard roughly and clicking the mouse indiscriminately at anything on the screen. Therefore, it did not come as a surprise that this did absolutely nothing to halt the ominous laughter or the barrage of pictures that just kept popping up one after the horrifying other.

"…Oh….Oh god…that does NOT go there….I will never be able to look at the Batarang the same way again," Rob groaned shutting his eyes as another picture appeared. Ryce's eyes just seemed to get wider in comparison as another four or five pictures loaded…and now there were cosplayers.

"…why would Batman carry THAT in his utility belt!"

It was then Robert noticed she was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to answer, "Why the hell would _**I**_ know!"

"Cause _**you **_are the only one here that every time he touches something today, causes something really god damn gay to happen!" she yelled back, "Maybe some power that be is trying to tell you someth-"

"Don't say it!" he growled back mashing his hand on the keyboard once more while the other pointed to her.

"Rob, stop hitting the damn keyboard!" Ryce snapped, finally scrambling over him towards the wall. More to the point, she scrambled over to the outlet in said wall and the power chord linking it to the desktop's CPU. Visions of Cyborg's more intelligent solution to this morning's debacle danced in her minds eye. Pull the power…get Victor in here to repair it…Robin would never have to know! It was perfect…it was simple…it was…

"THERE! Fixed it!" Robert yelled triumphantly from behind her.

It was not going to happen that way, apparently. Turning her head to glance cautiously over her shoulder – like someone expecting a blow – Ryce looked back to the monitor to find it clear of the graphic images. She did not acknowledge Robert's nearly smug expression as she made her way back over. For all appearances, he seemed right in his 'fixed it' assessment. The pictures were gone and the booming evil cackling from the speakers has ceased. All that was left was one small pop up message. She read this message.

Mail Sent.

Ryce stood stock still staring at those two little words for several moments. The muscle beneath her blind eye gave a highly visible twitch much to Gauntlet's confusion. Before he could voice his eventual question over her expression she grabbed his chin with one hand – non-too-gently – and directed his face to the message on the screen that had caught her attention.

"…oh…crap," was his brilliant contribution.

"…who did you send it to," Ryce hissed eyes narrowing down at him as he clicked frantically.

"Don't make that face! Look!" and he pointed at the screen to emphasize this command, "It only went to one person."

It appeared that he was right as he opened the 'sent' tab on the screen. A single line had been filled out in the address box. As if to further prove this point, Gauntlet reopened the mail itself. And with that single click upon that 'one person,' the truth was brought into light, as a mailing list made up of hundreds scrolled down the screen. Media outlets…Honorary Titans…Fans…all now privy to an email that had 'mutated' to being entitled, "Important Matters Concerning City Safety – CONFIDENTIAL." A title that would no doubt prove utterly irresistible to any being within the realm of the non-brain-dead.

Ryce stared at the screen.

Robert stared at the screen.

And then they were both running.

A litany of 'charming' words – some of which Robert did not even know existed – flew out of Ryce's mouth as she skidded around one corner slamming into a wall clumsily. The Titan could only wince at the sound it made as she was producing a key from her back pocket, undeterred by her crash. Frantically, she attempted to shove said key into the lock that prevented anyone else from entering her room. Gauntlet did not so much as slow as he passed by.

"Don't bother locking yourself in, Tim has a key to every room in the Tower," he pointed out as if reading her mind.

Another growled out curse came from the angel just as the door managed to click open a crack. Swiftly, she turned the lock back and pulled the door hastily forward to close it. Sparing it no glance, she was running after him once more, following his path to the Tower elevator. As he grabbed the set of keys dangling on a hook nearby, she began to press the button over and over as if this would somehow spur the lift to move at a faster rate. A glance back showed Gauntlet looking around the room and down the halls, keeping look out should anyone approach and wonder what was wrong with the both of them.

"Coast is clear," he whispered back loudly, returning to her side just as the light for their floor lit up with a ding and the doors slid open.

Timothy "Robin" Drake looked at them both impassively from within the lift.

Gauntlet was not quite sure he had ever seen anyone actually jump that high when startled. Both arms lashed out and balanced Ryce, one clapping a hand over her squeaking mouth to prevent anything from coming out of it. Robin just stared at them both questioningly. Laughing nervously, the artifact wielding young man lifted his other hand in a wave. His leader still looked on, eye brow raised.

"Everything alright you two?" Robin asked as he departed from the lift.

Robert gave another laugh and backed up past the still open doors, the hand clapped over Ryce's mouth moved to rest on her shoulder. Waving off the masked man's concern with the other hand he just smiled, "No! No everything's awesome…Ryce and I were um…just about to go on that date!"

Ryce bobbled her head in soundless agreement. Robin did not look convinced.

"…you're going out on your 'date' now."

"Yup."

"After she humiliated you in front of the entire team."

"Yup."

"After you referred to her as a psychotic harpy of banshee proportions whose only goal outside of sucking the life force out of the innocent is to emasculate you and display your ripped off man bits on the living room mantel like a hunter's trophy for all to see."

"…yea she didn't hear me say that, but thanks for repeating it right in front of her," Robert sighed hanging his head as Ryce's glare focused on him again.

"...Well, considering your luck, it's STILL already better than any other date you've had so far," Robin pointed out, still watching the two suspiciously

Finally, the doors gave their warning ding, alerting passengers and disembarkers alike that the doors were shifting shut. A few seconds more and they did just that cutting the two fidgety blonds off from Robin's view. Robert was spared any more of his leader's poorly timed admissions.

"…psychotic harpy?" Ryce asked flatly.

"You accepted my apology already and therefore the statute of limitations on you being angry is up," Robert countered.

Ryce did not look impressed with this logic.

Either way, it no longer seemed to matter as the doors once again gave their musical ding and opened to reveal the garage of the Tower. They both walked from the lift calmly, one foot in front of the other. Each step shed from them both a little more restraint…each fall of the foot came faster after the other. Soon enough, Ryce and Robert were all but sprinting over to the car. Ryce reached the automobile first, flinging open the driver's side door, and climbing in. With bordering on frantic movements she shut the door beside her and began to fiddle with the seat belt. It was then she noticed that there was no one climbing into the passenger's seat.

Robert stared at her from outside.

"Yea last time you drove a car you wrapped it around a telephone poll…"

She frowned up at him, "Oh c'mon!"

"I'll stand here and wait until Tim comes down and life imitates the 'art' of those emails with his Birdarangs before I let you drive," he said in an uncharacteristic dead pan as Ryce pouted up at him.

* * *

Meanwhile, several stories above the budding tug of war over the car keys, Timothy Drake sat down at his computer to read through the responses the petite blond had sent out. Needless to say, he was regretting this punishment around the second email. By the fifth, he was thinking up a new punishment for BOTH the individuals he had just passed by in the living area, seeing obvious signs of his teammate's contribution to these 'charming' responses. The thought was cut short though when he saw the mass mailing that occurred mere minutes ago. A feeling of dread set in as he moved the cursor over the first one. He was just about to click the icon, hovering over it.

And then the screaming started over the T-COM.

"DUDE! WHAT THE HELL!"

"My eyes!"

"Um...Nigel can you come to the seventh floor? Star tried to get away and ran into another wall."

"…Why is everyone checking their email at the exact same time?"

"Why do people keep showing me gay erotica today!" came a typically calm voice that was now just beginning to verge on hysteria.

_Well at least I know Noel's alive_, Tim thought sourly. He tried so very hard to keep his temper…to not all but fly down the stairs after the two idiots he had so stupidly allowed access to this. He might have even succeeded too, if he had not noticed the media sources on said mailing list.

Cyborg's voice called up from the COM hesitantly, "Yea…Robin…don't go to TMZ's website."

* * *

By now a mile or more away, the Tower shrinking in the rearview mirror, Ryce and Robert sat in nervous silence. Nervous silence that was broken by the beeping of the yellow communicator resting on the dashboard. A nauseous looking expression crossed Gauntlet's face as he lifted it up, pinched between two fingers and held out at arm's length as if it was something of great disgust or filth.

With a wincing glance at his passenger, he pressed the button, "…um…Jump City Pizza can I take your or-?"

"_**WHEN I FIND YOU BOTH THEY WILL NOT BE ABLE TO TELL WHAT BODY PART BELONGS TO WHICH MORON I SWEAR TO GOD! RYCE I WILL MAKE YOUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS SEEM LIKE THE BRADY BUNCH!**__"_

Gauntlet's eyes widen in surprise as Robin's voice continued to roar down the COM link. He tossed the communicator to Ryce as if it were hot, mouthing at her silently to take it and talk to him. Not appearing to agree with this idea, she shook her head and tossed it back to him. Thus began a silent argument between the two as Tim's screaming carried on unaware of the game of 'hot potato' that had begun in the car. Eventually, it was Ryce who developed with the only reasonable solution to the situation they were currently facing.

She threw the screaming T-COM out the window.

The car was plunged back into awkward silence.

"…sushi okay with you?"

"…aye…"

* * *

Within a half an hour both Ryce and Robert found themselves seated outside a small venue over looking the bay. The Titan had to give her credit. Since their hasty flight from the Tower, the girl had managed to keep any and all of her typically snarky commentary out of the conversation…albeit that 'conversation' mostly had consisted of painfully awkward silence and distinct efforts to not make eye contact, but it was a start he supposed. Baby steps forward in getting her to not be manically confusing. There was however, one thing weighing quite heavily on his mind.

Under the guise of perusing his menu he nonchalantly tried to bring that subject up, "So…you and Bart…"

A glance up and over the menu found Ryce looking up at him, head tilted to one side. Her expression could be called endearingly confused he supposed. What Robert had hoped would happen was that she would seize this opportunity to figure out his unasked question without him finishing the thought. No such luck appeared as she just gazed back questioningly.

"He's not going get his spandex in a twist over this lunch thing right?" Rob asked still trying to keep the pretense of simple conversation. If anyone had been listening they may have told him that he was failing quite exceptionally at this.

Ryce raised an eyebrow in response and Gauntlet could see that she was not going to make this easy by any means.

"Well y'know…the whole um…fight with Ter in the kitchen? Aren't you two…uh...'together'?" he trailed off, gesturing helplessly to illustrate a point he could not quite politely form into actual words and sentences.

"No," she said, continuing to stare at him incredulously, "I barely know him. Why would you think that?"

"But didn't you sleep with-," he was quick to start, but than the pieces finally seemed to click into place for Gauntlet, whose eyes widen just a bit, "Oh…Oh! I…um…so you…isn't that a bit-"

"Aye! You can stop THAT sentence right there, Rob," Ryce said eyes narrowing as she pointed across the table accusingly, "S'bullshit of the highest order."

_Date disintegrating in T-minus 10 seconds_, he thought cringing as she continued to glare.

"Y'know what? I love how I have a bit of fun and, immediately, m'called a whore – and don't give me that look 'cause I know you are thinking it jus like the others back at the Tower are – but if it were YOU who had a li'l no-strings-attached shag with some girl, all the guys would be slappin' you on the back, givin' praise, or whatever machismo bull your gender seems to pull together every time one of you gets laid. Hell, I bet they'd throw you a damn parade. M'serious! I bet Gar and Vic would have a bleedin' BANNER made up for you."

Robert stared at her for a few seconds after her tirade, before grumbling dryly, "It is not THAT bizarre an occurrence that there would be a parade and a banner."

Oddly enough, this seemed to bring a slight smile to her face as she shook her head, "Don't pout. Girls don't find petulance attractive."

Midway through his nod, once again a light seemed to go on behind the Titan's eyes. Something that had been bugging him had finally wormed its way up from the annals of his memory and was now blinking up at him expectantly.

"Ryce…is your boyfriend okay with you having casual sex with strange meta-humans?" Gauntlet asked as Ryce's eyes began once again to look over the menu in front of her.

She did not even look up, "I don't have a boyfriehhh-god damn it."

The grin ripped across his face as the pained grimace raced across hers. Oblivious to his triumphant expression – as her eyes were squeezed shut – Ryce lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, no doubt to alleviate that headache that had to now be building behind her eyes. Unbeknownst to her 'date,' it was also to distract herself from the stinging in those eyes and the ball of lead her insides had become.

Robert leaned forward slightly and pointed across the table, "Hah! LIAR! I _knew_ it! So what? Did you just make some imaginary boyfriend up?"

For a moment she said nothing, and then in a quiet – tired sounding – tone, "…no. I did not make him up, Robert."

He had yet to pick up on the sudden change in demeanor, yet to notice the biting, playful lit to her words had fizzled and dulled, "Alright, did you two break it off or something before you showed up here?"

For a moment, it seemed she was not going to answer, just sitting there with her eyes shut. He waited for the snappy retort. Waited for her eyes to open and her temper to flare up in a display of creative insults. Slowly, they did open. But there was no anger there…no fire at all. Now, he finally saw the pain etching into them, finally heard it in the suddenly subdued sound of her voice, "…he died. My brother killed him."

Silence dropped over the table as Robert's triumphant smile fell from his face in a near audible slump. Eyes wide, he just stared across at the girl who was now not quite meeting his gaze, seemingly to become all too interested in looking slightly upwards at the sky above his head. After a few moments, the waiter chose to make his entrance and stood besides the small, two-person table looking at them both expectantly and pleasantly. Gauntlet sighed and buried his face into one hand.

"So yea...can we get an order of edamame…and some water to wash the taste of my left…wait, no…my right foot out of my mouth please?"

"Very good, sir."

A few seconds of that hurt silence over took the table in the waiter's wake. It did not last particularly long before Robert looked up at her trying to catch her eye, "….I…I am _so_ sorry…I shouldn't have…"

"No…m'not gonna accept that apology," she said, looking back in time to catch his wince, "I can't cause you shouldn't be making it and m'the one who should be apologizing."

A look of confusion washed over the young man's features as Ryce took a deep breath, "I…obviously still have a lot of issues with what happened…and I take them out on you. That's not fair and s'not right. M'sorry for that, Rob."

"What did happen – if you don't mind my asking?" he asked cautiously, though not unkindly. A small, humorless smile quirked up on her lips at the question. It was a sad, ugly little grin that Gauntlet was grateful to see fade when she began to speak.

"I was fifteen…really only a few weeks from my sixteenth birthday when this crisis with D'xias all began. The first world…my first failure…was already on its last legs. Humanity was on par with any other animal you'd find on an average endangered species list in numbers. It was…a pointless world to try and save.

"I went anyway. A few thousands lives – even if I was delaying some sort of inevitable – is still a few thousands lives. I went alone the first two attempts…no Xavius hounding my movements. He was part of the group that found me after I arrived…that took me in and listened to my warnings. They took care of me and…they did something. Something wonderful…and terrible."

Ryce paused, eyes staring down at the table, but not seeing it. Robert waited for her to continue, reaching out to offer a comforting touch to the back of her hand. Just a simple brush of his fingertips. Something sparked in her eyes at the touch, "…they treated me like an equal. They treated me with kindness. No one had ever done that before. I fell in love with the feeling of being cared for…and I fell in love with the one person out of them who truly made me smile and laugh even though the world had collapsed around him. We…were happy.

"And then, D'xias came. And these heroes who had already lost everything fought him…and they won. I couldn't even wrap my mind around it. They had won. _I_ had won. It was over. It was like a band around my chest that I didn't know existed, released and I could breathe for the first time in months. I looked at him…and he looked at me with that same stupid smile as he always had. And then he died. They all did. One after the other."

"He didn't die – D'xias, I mean. It had been a trick," Gauntlet said in quiet confirmation watching as Ryce nodded in a sort of muted sadness.

"Aye," she said quietly, "A cruel…vicious trick. And before I was pulled from one world into the next, my brother leaned over and told me a truth. '_**This **_is the reality. There are _monsters_…and sometimes theywin.'"

Gauntlet was surprised to say the least when a small chuckle rose up from the woman across from him. It was far from the side-splitting level, giggling he had seen from her an hour or so ago when they had been answering those emails, but it was not in the vein of that ugly expression he had seen on her earlier either. Shaking her head and letting out another subdued laugh she glanced up, "Kinda a ridiculously heavy topic for a lunch date, wouldn't you say?"

Robert could not help but smile a bit at that, "With my experience? For all I know, lunch dates are supposed to consist of discussing murdered loved ones and familial genocidal disputes."

It was perhaps the most tactless thing the blond could have possibly said. Which is perhaps why it set the half angel into a fit of eye-tearing laughter. Robert watched in quiet amusement as she shook with it, as much a release as perhaps bursting into tears might have been. He waited for her to finish, waited for the absurdity of it all to liberate her from the giggles that had washed over her.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Miss No Last Name Given?" he asked, head tilted to the side.

She nodded, wiping a few stray tears of mirth from under her eyes, "Aye…can't say I'll answer but you can ask."

"Why waste your time bed hopping if you can just…find him again?"

The smile leaked out of her expression a bit and she turned back to look at him with neutral eyes. Robert was unable to read the look on her face, so he assumed it perhaps to be one of confusion.

"I mean…we've seen it before. People from one world die, but they're still around in another. Your guy could be here…hell, he could be in Jump City for all you know, right now, walking around. You could have him back. Why not find him?"

A quick aversion of her eyes back down to the table was his immediate answer as Ryce thought of how to best respond to this question. After a few quiet moments of contemplation she gave a small sigh and shake of her head. Her eyes were back on him again, "I have. And you're right…he is in Jump."

Eyes flared open in surprise at this confession, followed quickly by a narrowing in confusion, "But…then…why don't you-"

She shook her head again, interrupting his question before he could fully voice it, "Because, Robbie. It wouldn't _be _him. It may look like him…sound like him…even smell like him. This person may even aggravate and send me into stitches the same way he used to. But it would never _be_ him. All the experiences and things that shaped this one person...everything that made him who he was wouldn't be there no matter how badly I wanted them to be. It wouldn't be fair to either of us…I would always look at him and see someone else. He would always know that maybe m'just playing make believe. I wouldn't be able to do that to someone. S'not right and I've come to terms with that. Now, I just have to come to terms that yes…bad things happened and I miss him terribly…but that doesn't mean that I can treat this other guy like crap just because some part of me is still angry over losing someone who shares his face."

The waiter arrived just as she finished and placed down on the table a small basket filled with small green, salted pods. Ryce wasted no time reaching in and plucking one delicately away from the others and placing it into her mouth. Across the table Robert nodded in agreement reaching over to do the same.

Ryce did not so much as blink as she lifted the basket of soybeans up away from the glass of water Robert managed to spill over the table once exactly what she had just said finally sank in. With a shake of her head, her blind eye gave a soft glow sending several napkins scattering over the table to sop up the mess. All the while Robert just continued to blink at her owlishly.

"Now that you've figured it out…I promise that I will try to refrain from projecting and ripping your face off for no reason," she pointed out. The saturated pile of linens slid over to the side of the table on its own as she did so. Gauntlet could only seem to manage to stare at her in that same look of confused surprise as the waiter returned and cleaned away the wet napkins. When she finally looked back, he could see her mouth thinning and trembling as she tried to hold in what was clearly laughter.

"Well I suppose staring at me like a spooked bird is a bit cuter than the petulant pouting," she said shaking her head kindly.

"…you are a very odd little thing, Ryce," was all Robert could finally come up with causing a wide grin to break out across her face. Slowly, it lessened into a small almost bemuse sort of smirk as she regarded him. A thoughtful look crossed her face before she eventually gave a nod.

"…Gallagher," Ryce said in a content – almost mellow – sort of tone.

His head tilting to one side in non-comprehension, Gauntlet could only reply with a confused, "Huh?"

That soft, quiet smile glimmered back at him, "…earlier…you said I had no last name…I do. It's Gallagher. Alaryce Gallagher."

* * *

It was over three hours before the car swung round again, returning to the space it had sped out from beneath the Tower. A few moments of idling were all the past before the moderately purr of the engine was cut, allowing a muffled voice to be heard from within a bit more clearly. A door swung open on either side finally clearing up what the driver had been saying.

"…and that's when I bought the horse a prostitute," Robert finished as Ryce just continued to laugh at whatever it was that had led up to this glorious punch line.

"Stop…" she said breathlessly as she tried to reign in the fit of laughter she was still gripped in, following his lead towards the lift, "I can't…sides…face…hurt…."

It was perhaps the most relaxed the Titan had ever found himself around a member of the opposite sex. Perhaps, given his new understanding of the younger woman with him, knowing that nothing would come of this faux date had caused the ease and – dare one say – actually smooth nature that had come over him. Maybe it was the sheer lacking of pressure upon him that caused the simple confidence to transform his typical moments of being annoying into moments of being genuinely amusing. Robert did not know…was not even really aware of the change. Instead, he gave a wide grin and shrug as he stepped into the waiting elevator extending an arm through the door to ensure her safe entrance, "Well, stop having a pretty smile and I won't keep making you laugh."

What he was saying seemed to only register after the words had come out of his mouth. Immediately, he gave an inward wince, waiting for the shot that would send the moment spiraling down to crash flatly against the elevator floor. A roll of the eyes…a snarky comment…a dirty look. Even all of the above seemed a likely response from Ryce given her typical nature. And yet, none of the above was what he received. In fact, another soft laugh rose up from the young woman beside him, that smile he had mentioned staying strong on her face. Ryce had just reached out and pressed the lift button when she noticed the sudden silence and cautious stare she was being granted.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

A moment of awkward quiet passed before Gauntlet finally managed to string his words warily together, "I was flirting with you…"

"I noticed."

"Yet you didn't say 'Go away loser I'd rather have a nose job by a stub fingered lemur with leprosy.' That means something," he pointed out, a small smirk making its way across his face.

She was smiling and shaking her head now, eyes glancing up at the ceiling as she waited for the lift to rise, "Maybe I was just being polite and didn't want to hurt your feelings?"

"But you're not polite…you're rude…in fact you can be downright bitchy."

Ryce could not help but let out a burst of laughter at that, before glancing back at the other blond, "Well, I promised to be less so, did I not?"

She did not wait for the Titan to answer that question, "You do realize that s'every 'man' for themselves when we leave this lift, right? I doubt very seriously if Fearless has calmed down."

He waved off her concern dismissively, "Yea…but he always has his flamboyant, lime green tights twisted up over something. So…I guess this is the end of our 'date,' huh?"

The smaller girl turned around and rested her back against the elevator door, regarding Gauntlet quietly for a moment, "Aye…suppose it is. I must say…was a lot less painful than I thought it would be."

"Glad to exceed your extremely low expectations," he said with a smile, "That being said, you do know what happens at the end of a date, yes?"

"Absolutely not, Robert," was the rather edged reply. Gauntlet had a sneaking suspicion it was not meant to answer the question he had asked. The compartment rumbled in its slow ascent as he stepped away from the barely trembling wall towards her.

"What?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly before relaxing once more. Gauntlet could see she was glancing at him from the corner of them, her frame tensed and arms folded. Warning signs began to flare red in his mind all saying the same thing, approach with extreme caution and danger. After a moment of cautious pause, Ryce finally emitted a soft sigh and let some of the wound up tension leak out of the tautness that had settled over her like a blanket. When she did choose to speak, much of the edge that had been in her voice had also bled out of her, "After everything I have told you today…what exactly would be the point of it?"

He shrugged at first and response trying to keep his tone light, curious to see where this might lead if nothing else, "Does everything NEED to have a point? Can't something just be fun? It's a goodnight kiss, I'm not asking you to bare my children."

"It's four in the afternoon."

"And watch as the point flies right over your head," Robert sighed, though he did not miss the slight tremble of her lower lip or the tick at the corner of her mouth, both signs, he had come to realize, that she was trying her hardest not to smile, "It's kinda funny that a girl who had no problem hopping into bed with Bart Allen a week after meeting him is so intimidated by a good ni…afternoon kiss."

The progressively relaxing curve of her brow instantly shot up at his nonchalant observation as her eyes rockets open wide. A trace of amusement when through the Titan at the sight, satisfied at having read her so well, and predicting what he was sure to be coming. Her eyes fixed on him, glimmering in defiance, "Oh please, that'll b'the day YOU intimidate ME in these matters in any way, shape, or form."

Above all else he saw as he began to grin, Ryce – also known according to this afternoon as Alaryce Gallagher – did NOT like to be challenged. Further than that? She did not back down from them when she was. Gauntlet cast a good-natured – if not a bit cocky – sort of grin, "Put up or shut up then, half pint."

Ryce's left eyebrow quirked upwards as the other furrowed in what was clearly a rebellious expression. No move towards or away from him was made as she continued to lean casually against the elevator doors. What she did, was tilt her head back delicately so that she gazed upwards at him. Arms had dropped to her side to dangle there calmly away from where she had previously held them folder across her chest. All the while she continued to stare at him with that almost insolent, challenging gaze.

Gauntlet shifted forward towards her, taking the bait. No hesitation, no pause, no time to give himself room to question what could have been his most suicidal move to date. Some part of him was expecting her to turn at the last moment. Even as he ducked his head – _she __**is**__ tiny_, his mind registered in a sort of subconscious observation – he was waiting for a hand to rise up and crack him across the jaw. Maybe even a fist. What she actually did, however, was tilt her head back further and press off the lift wall towards him.

…she was a good kisser.

While many could perhaps joke – given the Titan's luck with the female gender – that even a Saint Bernard with an overactive saliva gland would been seen as a good kisser by him, Robert was not exactly completely lost in the subtle art. Her mouth moved softly against his, slowly. Dimly he registered that she tasted…tangy somehow…it was a welcome observation. A cautious hand rose up and cupped the side of her face gently, fingers lightly dancing across the smooth skin of her cheek. Gauntlet shifted his body closer to her much smaller form when the kiss started to finally deepen further, her teeth beginning to lightly nip and nibble his lower lip. The hand which housed the ancient artifact that gave him his name traced up the small of her back and came to rest on the door for balance.

Which is why three seconds later, he really should not have been surprised to find himself on the Tower floor, a raw rug burn beginning to turn red across his chin. Somewhere in the back of his head he could hear a voice scolding him about the dangers of leaning against a door, it sounded suspiciously like his mother. Gauntlet managed to snap out of the slight daze he had been knocked into to here a badly stifled snicker. A glance back revealed an all too amused looking Ryce waving at him with one had and holding the door-open button with the other. The elevator gave a musical chime and began to close once more, framing her face behind the doors and the cheeky and knowing look that now resided there.

"Every person for themselves, luv," she said with a shrug before disappearing behind the sliding metal.

What she was talking about became clear when a voice growled out some feet behind him, "Robert, my friend? May I talk to you for a moment?"

Gauntlet scrambled off the floor with a dramatic shriek for "Sanctuary!" and dashed away down a hall as Tim Drake chased quickly after him, clear murder in his eyes.

* * *

Oblivious to her boyfriend's imminent commission of homicide several floors below her, Starfire strolled down the Tower hall. As always – or at the very least almost always – a small smile was present on her face. One hand swung merrily at her side, while the other clutched a book within it gently; careful to not abuse the well used novel any more than its worn pages could handle. The cover of it was blandly toned – grays, whites, and blacks mostly – and to many may have seemed familiar. A bust view of a relatively pretty and soft looking young woman with dark hair gazing calmly out at the world. Or perhaps that is simply what THIS particular picture was based off of. The more traditional picture had been edited it seemed, casting those passive eyes into a red tone, the flesh missing off of the lower half of the woman's face revealing bone blood and sinew.

Starfire remembered expressing strong doubt upon Ryce's insistence that she would enjoy the novel. The title – Pride and Prejudice and Zombies – alone had prompted her to attempt to return it to its owner, insisting that perhaps Raven would enjoy the book more.

Apparently, no was not a word Ryce wished to hear when it came to literature recommendations and soon enough the alien woman found herself humoring her younger friend by skimming the pages. After all, she had done the same for her with Twilight. Albeit Ryce had attempted to burn the whole series later that evening but she had at least read them first. Most surprisingly, Kory found a distinct lack of desire to do the same to the amusing and oddly romantic suggestion the petite blond had made.

Even more interesting, there was also ANOTHER version of the paperback circulating the book stores, according Noel. Though, she believed, it sounded a great deal less humorous in its lacking of ninjas and undead. She informed her too serious teammate of this…and ignored his pained expression when she voiced her disapproval of ruining the story by editing them out. Her mouth twitched a bit at the memory of him walking from the room unaware of the laugh she was stifling

Annoying Noel was fun.

Her eyes cast to the side and found herself standing before the room she had been seeking. She raised the hand containing the dog-eared text and knocked gently on the door, awaiting for the sound of unlocking from within. Used to Raven's almost bordering on anti-social desire for her privacy, Ryce's habit of locking her room was not entirely odd to her.

What was odd, however, was the creek that sounded above her rapping as the door swung open slowly. Star watched its movements with a slight tilt to her head, never having heard of the newcomer leaving her living space unlocked. Craning her neck forward slightly she called out, "Ryce? I have come to return your novel. It was…surprisingly enjoyable."

The Titan was greeted by silence.

Memory traveled back swiftly through the years, to a time before Ryce and even before her team had expanded beyond its core five. The 'mirror incident' as many still referred to Beast Boy and Cyborg's trappings within Raven's psyche due to their disregard for her privacy. Star worried her lower lip with her teeth lightly. Surely, just placing the novel on her bed would not be too invasive, After all, she had not locked to door, and perhaps she was beginning to lighten up in her slightly inconsistent distrust of her new 'house mates.' Yes, that would be just fine. Return the book and take her leave, she would inform her young friend of it later. Smiling she pushed the door open and stepped into the dark confines.

…there is no doubt a lack of need to tell you that the smile instantly fell from her face.

Every last inch of the wall and ceiling were completely covered with photographs. For a moment, the Tamaranian was convinced that perhaps it was some sort of optical illusion, or even a trick of the dark that had made her misjudge what she was actually seeing. Yet, even as she crossed the floor and walked further inside she could see that this was not the case. Wall to wall, ceiling to floor every single inch of it was covered in the glossy coated pieces of paper from which untold amounts of people gazed from. She tried to find a piece of plaster that had been spared this, but as her eyes darted about the room she already began to understand that she would find none. All she could see was more and more photos, layered just barely overlapping, one after the other, after the other, after the other in a maddening scale like pattern. There was little else to catch her attention. A bed…a large pile of dusty looking tombs and books off to one side…a small table. The most simple of lodgings if not for the hundred – maybe even thousands – of strange frozen faces peering down at her.

She let out a small gasp when the door slammed shut behind her.

What she had been expecting when she turned about, even Kory was unsure of. Her eyes glowing a vibrant green and hands flying up ready to do the same, she whirled around to find the room's occupant looking at her from the other side of the room, expression carefully blank. The halos of light forming about her eyes faded in an instant and her hands fell back to her side. Ryce said and did nothing, continuing to stare back at her with eyes that betrayed nothing. The angel's stare was more unnerving than those of the frozen faces all around the alien woman.

"…I wanted to return your book," Kory managed to say quietly.

A flicked of something sparked in the younger woman's eyes at that, though Starfire could not quite name what it was. Perhaps annoyance…rage…sorrow. It was gone within a heartbeat whatever it was.

"…did you find it _entertaining?_" Ryce asked, her voice positively dripping with ice. Starfire flinched, knowing full well she was not talking about the novel that she was now placing gently upon the made up bed at her side.

When Ryce moved, it was with stiff controlled movements, like one restraining themselves mentally to a near physical point. There was no way to tell, however, just what emotion the girl was keeping tightly reigned in as she crossed the room and picked the paperback up from where the Titan had placed it.

Kory answered her as if it was anyway, "Y-Yes…it was most amusing if not a bit gory. I enjoyed the ninjas."

A curt nod was the only response Ryce gave as she cradled the book gently in her hands, delicately. Without so much as a sideways glance to other person she moves back to the corner where the piles of books and papers sat to place it down, with the same tenderness one might treat a Fabergé egg as opposed to a dog eared, worn out book.

Starfire nodded back calmly, carrying herself and conversing with her smaller and younger friend as if glaring badges of what could only be an unhealthy obsession did not surround her. Her eyes fell upon an antique checkered game board laid out on a small table placed between two chairs facing in. One chair remained empty while the other had the odd viewing orb hovering above it, its swirling grey depths pulsing and writing indifferently. The black and white pieces, delicate and crystalline looking, were arranged in a pattern across that meant nothing to her beyond that a game had been in progress. It held the air of a game that had been left now for some time – hours maybe…days perhaps– though no dust had settled down on the oddly mournful and beautiful marks. It was as if one or perhaps both players had been called away from completing it.

"Who are you playing with?" she asked hoping to prompt some start to a conversation with the tense and still silent angel.

Ryce turned back to face her, jaw set, eyes glancing dismissively at the board.

"….a pen-pal…I guess…but that s'not really the question you wanted to ask."

She watched Starfire with quiet contemplative eyes. The woman could see that she was awaiting her real questions. She could see that there would be no delicate tiptoeing around what she had come to discover in the usually locked room.

"Ryce…what is going on?" she asked softly, trying as hard as she could to convey as much concern and kindness as she could into her tone, "Who…who are they?"

"Were," Ryce was quick to respond, almost gliding across the room to straighten the clearly already made bed, "Who _**were**_ they is what you mean to ask. The answer is I don't know. They could have been Toms, Dicks, or Harrys…Janes, Sues, or Beths. That's not what matters anymore."

Kory listened…she did not question. The teenager seemed to welcome her silence as she continued, "What matters is…they were just people. They were just people who had the unfortunate luck to be fated to exist in a world that D'xias chose."

Finally, the pieces began to fall into place for Starfire, "These were people you photographed in the worlds your brother has destroyed."

Ryce nodded her head in silence, looking around the room at the photos with vague – if any – interest in her mismatched eyes. When she did speak, her voice displayed the same, "An' the books in the corner are s'many names s'I could remember from 'em. Those I couldn't…well…"

She shrugs her shoulders and flits her hand through the air not unlike in the manner of a bird that flits away. Pity and sympathy finally over take the older alien standing behind her. With a few short steps she was behind the girl a hand resting gently upon her shoulder, "Friend…please…this behavior is not healthy. You are tormenting yourself over something you had no control over."

A derisive laugh barks up and out of Ryce's mouth before Kory could quite finish. Though she does not rip away from her ginger touch, the Titan can feel Ryce's shoulder tense like steel beneath her hand, "Don't make this into some backwards act of atonement…it has nothing to DO with it. I did what I could for these people I know s'not my fault they're gone."

Then, the smaller of the two does pull away, albeit more gently than she probably desires too. Kory watches her walk around the perimeter of the room with sad eyes, her voice gently maternal and understanding, "You say you do not blame yourself…I do not believe you."

"Well pin a fucking rose on your alien nose then Koriand'r," Ryce turned roughly about, a hand flailing outwards as she snapped. Instantly, she was cringing hanging her head in quiet shame. Kory waited for her to stop her pacing and slide down onto the duvet on her bed listening to the apologetic tone that emerges from her, "…m'sorry…that was uncalled for. But…it isn't about atonement, Kory."

She did not believe her. Not for even a single moment did she accept that there is no guilt being hung over the young girl's head. But she lets her have it anyway, moving slowly – as if approaching a wounded animal more than capable of biting the hands that helps – towards the bed Ryce is sitting upon. When she is sure that it is safe to do so she sits down next to her, keeping physical contact broken for the time being, "Then why? Why build a shrine to the dead in your room if not out of guilt?"

For a moment, the older Titan is not sure whether or not Ryce is going to answer her questions or remain fixed in her unhappy silence until Starfire had taken her leave. Going so far as to open her mouth to offer some kind word of encouragement of comfort, the alien was interrupted by a small sigh from beside her. Finally, Ryce seemed to find her voice again. She took a deep breath and explained.

"…because they're not dead. Because they didn't die…I understand Death, Kory. So much of me _**IS**_ Death," Ryce said in a quiet almost serene sort of calm, something like a humorless smile twitching at her lips, "If anyone in his tower can_ really_ come close to understanding Death like I do, it's you and Nigel. I guess that's why m'not freakin' out over you bein' in here. You've lived through the hell of war."

A curious expression crossed Ryce's face and she shook her head as if trying to clear it. There was a queer tone in her voice when she continued, "But even that really doesn't come close to my…'intimate' relationship with it and the things that stem out of it. I've seen monsters, Kory…not self stylized gods playing with shadows like a four year old in a sandbox, mind you…but **REAL **monsters. I pray to whatever is listening that you never come to understand that…that you never see what it is that lurks, because even those are just traces."

She trailed off into almost a mumble at the finish, her manner strange and beginning to set her new friend beside her at unease. The faraway look to her eyes left the Titan wondering just exactly _where_ the young woman was right now, because she most certainly was not there, sitting beside her. No, something had taken Ryce away to some place else. Something had…done…something…but that was okay. It was okay because even as Starfire began to worry, she could see the lights turning back on behind the differently colored eyes. She could see her coming back. By the time Ryce stood up and walked over to the edge of the room when she looked up it was in a sort of desperation that was so painfully _**there**_ that Kory wondered if she had not imagined the whole eeriness altogether.

A thin arm and hand flailed up at the walls and their inhabitants, gesturing roughly at them as if Ryce was attempting to prove to Starfire their existence. She grew louder…angrier…all of it was finally coming to a head, "And that's the problem. These people…**they aren't dead**. They haven't moved on. They haven't been judged. They're not victims of some terrible monster that brings only pain and screaming. They just…_**aren't **_Kory. And that is the anti-thesis of EVERYTHING I know and understand and I am bloody terrified of it! It is Oblivion! It is something worse than those lurking _things _or what they are shadows of. These people exist in no where else but my memory and these pictures, otherwise they aren't even a fleeting thought within the cosmos."

There was no hint of anger now…no tinge of desperation or emotion. Her voice was raw with it, her eyes were burning fever bright pinpricks in her face when she turned back to her. She was beginning to rave, a rush of steam trapped too long behind some sealed off vent, "Don't you see! I _have_to remember them, Kory! If I don't who will! My _**family**_?"

She let out another one of those ugly, humorless barks of laughter lashing out a foot to send one of the old dusty named filled books flying across the room. It struck a wall with enough force to burst the spine and send leaves of its contents flittering to the ground with the pictures it displaced.

"I am the only one any of you fuckin' have, Koriand'r. I am the only one out'ta thousands who CARE. I HAVE to remember them and keep them because no one else fucking _**WILL**_**! AND I-"**

Whatever it was she was going to say was never shouted out. It perhaps was not the wisest move, perhaps even out right dangerous considering the rage Ryce was flying through. Starfire did not care, she simply hugged her tightly. If anything, the angel seemed too surprised by the act, to react in a manner other than to stand tensely, eyes wide and confused. Eventually, the tension left and that stunned expression faded beside it. A shaky sigh fell from her lips, a tremble passing through her body, before she finally returned the calming embrace.

"You…are not to blame. And you do not have to shoulder this responsibility, my friend," Star whispered when she finally pulled away, "But I know you will and I…cannot stop you from this. But you are not the only one who cares…you will not be the only one to remember."

Ryce…did not respond to her assurances beyond looking downwards and away as if in shame. Once more silence fell over the room and its inhabitants and the green eyes woman could see that no more would come of this. Regarding Ryce with sad eyes, she stepped away and back to the door she was beginning to wish she had not knocked upon. There was not so much as an uttered sound as she followed, watching the Titan slip through in silence.

Ryce closed the door gently behind the orange toned woman as she left, listening to the soft click of the bolt that seemed to echo in the almost empty room. It was – at the risk of sounding clichéd – a very lonely sort of sound. Lonely, in the sight of a thousand imaginary eyes…memory eyes. She was struck suddenly with the sensation of having a lead brick dropped into her gut, followed by a nearly uncontrollable longing to see a particular face. The fact that filling this particular and urgent longing was impossible at the moment only served to fuel a growing sting behind her eyes.

_I miss Adam…_

_Stop it_, her mind scolded, _you are too old to be sniveling in the corner looking for a hug_. _Grow up._

…someone had chuckled.

Eyes narrowed into nearly paper thin slits bursting with venom, hate, and perhaps most important of all, embarrassment as she turned to the orb hovering before the chess board quietly. It could have been her imagination she supposed, hearing things and nothing more. Perhaps she even imagined that fleeting glimmer of black fading from the artifact's depths seen out of the corner of one eye. Yet none of these assurances kept her upper lip from curling into a snarl as she stormed forward and slammed one of the rings down, locking it in place.

"Fuck off," she hissed inhumanly to the empty room and orb.

The sting of her eyes departed…and so did she, slamming and locking the door behind her.

* * *

If there was one thing Tim Drake was not sure of…it was probably just how he had managed to get through today without having either lost his mind or committed some form of homicide in regards to his teammates. It did not matter, he supposed. He had made it through it and now all he desired was to retire into his room and be done with it. A bit earlier than usual, perhaps, but if anyone had been paying attention it was definitely an understandable course of action.

A course that the masked hero would take as soon as he figured out who exactly it was that was using the training room at 10:30 at night. On any other day he may have ignored the light beneath the room door or the sounds coming from within, but he recognized one of those voices easily. Considering it belonged to a man he was concerned to be traumatized after today's events, he felt compelled to check in and see what was going on.

It was…not what he was expecting.

"STOP. You are not listening. Straighten your wrist before you break it," Noel ordered, a shimmer strand lashing out and snapping smartly against the knuckles on the hand of said wrist.

"Ow! Bloody hell Noel don't do that, it hurts!"

"That was the point," the white haired man responded as his eyes caught sight of the new comer in the doorway observing, "Now, do it again and do it right. Push off with your back foot. It's your body putting the power in the punch not just your arm and keep your damn wrist straight."

Ryce gave a nod and set back into throwing punch after punch at the sand filled canvas bag in front of her. Robin noticed that this time she followed the instructions to a T, keeping her intricately wrapped fist and wrist straight with each strike. He could not help but feel a bit impressed with the power in her strikes given her inexperience.

_And just show a lotta things happenin' at once._

_Remind everyone what's goin' on. (What's goin' on?)_

"She's not half bad," Robin pointed out as Noel came up beside him. Both watched the teenager plant a steady right hook into the heavy bag.

The meta nodded in agreement, eyes taking in all the details of her stance as she threw a combination jab and cross, "She learns quickly…surprisingly quickly in fact. And she actually listens while she's in here, which is a nice change of pace. It's like talking to a completely different person."

_And when every shot, show a little improvement._

_To show it all would take too long._

"I found her in here a few weeks ago…she was flailing about like a fish imitating a bad kung-fu movie," Noel grumbled catching the team leader's attention, "I didn't bother telling her no…might as well teach her if she's going to do it anyway."

A smirk suppressed itself without much effort on Robin's part. There was something almost defensive to his teammate's explanation that Tim had not even asked for. It was interesting to say the least to see what may have almost been Noel's own personal brand of attachment form.

A loud heavy thud filled the room as she curled her leg up and around in an almost perfect roundhouse kick. Weeks of meticulous practice reflecting in the technique, each session fading into the next seamlessly. Robin finally realized the differences in her now. She was better…muscles tearing and then rebuilding…stronger…

_That's called a montage. (Montage!)_

_Ooh we want mont-_Ow! OW! Stop hitting me!

Noel and Tim looked back to see Ryce holding one of Tim's spare staves in her hand and whacking both Metatron and Gauntlet over the head with it repeatedly.

"SHUT UP! Stop singin' that stupid, bloody song!" she snapped as they quickly fled out the door and into the Tower hall. Breathing harshly, she turned back to Noel ready for her next instruction, when Gauntlet returned, poking his head back inside.

"But even Rocky had a monta-" the rest of what he was saying was cut off by the staff breaking over his head. Tim did not get a chance to voice his protest at his training staves being used as so. Noel was already over across the room yanking the remaining pieces out of her hands while yelling at both of the younger blonds. With an annoyed sigh, Robin made his way over to aid in shouting down the brewing fight. None of them paid any notice to the hulking shadow standing out in the hall, watching the exchange in oddly hostile silence.

* * *

He watched.

He was a scout.

It was his job to watch.

It was his job to see.

He did not like what he was seeing.

The girl was stronger now.

She was becoming a fighter.

She was dancing with the dark.

She was playing games with devils that ought not to be played.

She was questioning things that ought not to be questioned

She was thinking thoughts that ought not to be thought.

Something would have to be done about this fact.

The time for watching was done.

He was a soldier.

He acted.

* * *

**Author note**: As always thank you to my editor/beta/sounding board, Slothsoul. I promise that there is some more 'action-y' chapters coming up now as this winds down. Leave reviews, comments, sammiches, and small tokens of sacrifice in the lil review box below if it so strikes you

Meanwhile!

_**!OMAKE!**_

Slade Wilson…Deathstroke the Terminator…sat before his desktop, staring at the screen. The glow cast deep shadows across his lined and serious face as he scanned over what the words before him said. His brow furrowed…and then a look of surprise over came him, "…oh my god….oh my god oh my god omigod!

ROSE!"

"Yes father?"

"…get me my bunny slippers."


	12. Chapter 12

_"...I can't keep callin' you demon," she pointed out._

_"You can't?" he asked, "What's stopping you?" _

_"I don't want to."_

_"Ah. Ok. Well in that case…I'm Adam. Though they call me Metatron…or just Met. I don't know why. I call me Met too. I have a general idea why." _

_"…Why?" _

_A smile, "Cause other people call me that. It makes everything very convenient, that way."_

_"Which would you like me to call you, then? _

_"Meh. Up to you. Surprise me." _

_"...Met s'not a name. Adam is." _

_"You know, people constantly tell me that. Usually I don't tell them my name, and then they don't have a choice,"_

_"I could jus' call you both?" _

_"I like it. Keeps me on my toes. In turn, I shall call you many things. Like Sassypatches. Or Sharona. ...Shamona? Why so many 'S's? The other letters aren't talking to me much after that mess where I accidentally made a whole world illiterate. Oh wait. Yay, we made up...Billy Jean?"_

_"...you're very weird."_

_"I like your glasses." _

_"...Thank you." _

_"You don't smile often. The muscles you use for smiling…they are stiff from lack of use. Yet a smile is such a good look on you. I'm going to make it so it happens more often."_

_"...okay."_

_"When I make you laugh, a full blown, tearing laugh, you have to give me a reward."_

_"...heh...What did you want?" _

_"...Wait, I have to choose? Bah. Now I won't be surprised...hmmmm...How about your name?"_

_"...You want m'name...if you make me laugh?" _

_"Yeah! It'll be more fun that way. Then it's a game, see?"_

_"And if you don't? You jus'...never know m'name?"_

_"I guess you'll just have to be Sugarlips forever. There are worse names. Like Butterbottom…actually…hey, I like that. You're now Butterbottom. Well, I suppose they can't all be the best names ever."_

_A pause and then he said, "Huh. I'm going to be going soon."_

_"...goin'?" she replied._

_"I leave, from time to time. Go to other places. It's cause I have chaos in me, and it's a fickle mistress. Sometimes, it happens without warning. Others, I can feel it coming._

"_...I feel it coming." _

_There was disappointment in her voice, "Oh...okay." _

_And in his was hope, "...Come with me."_

_"...I...I cant. He'd be angry..." _

_"Whoever this 'he' is, he's kind of an arsehole, then. You... need fun. You have something to do. I can see it. You have the whole 'big quest' look in you eyes...so come with me."_

…_and then in the silent black her world ended and began._

"…_okay…"_

_

* * *

_

"Ms. Finn…" a calm voice broke the young woman lazing on the couch out of her anecdote. She frowned a bit, eyes shifting away from the ceiling she had been dutifully staring at to the man sitting in the chair nearby.

"That s'not the name I wrote down for you, Doc," she pointed out a touch cheerfully as her eyes returned to seeking out patterns in the textured paint above her head.

"…I cannot pronounce the name you wrote down…No one can."

She smiled, a hand lifting from where it had previously been dangling to adjust the glasses perched upon her nose, "Met can."

A small smile quirked up on the psychiatrist's lips mirroring her own, "The more we discuss him, the more it seems you think there is nothing he cannot do. You've built him up into a bit of an impossibility, Ryce."

For a few moments she sat without answer to that observation, eyes thoughtful and vague. When she finally responded, it was in a slightly more gentle tone, the smile softening on her face, "You haven't met Adam. 'Sides…s'not like YOUR name's any better."

Dr. Sidlakus' face showed what ambiguously may have been called amusement before he returned to his business of chatting with the young woman that had recently been introduced to his services, "You were sixteen when you met this 'Metatron,' then?"

"Aye…almost seventeen actually" she answered twirling a piece of her – he noted, pink streaked this week…last week it had been blue streaked – hair between her fingers

"You didn't think it a bad idea to take up with some stranger who did not even know your name?"

"Maybe I jus' missed the company after…well…maybe I was jus' lonely," Ryce gave a shrug after recovering from the awkward pause in her sentence, Her eyes darted over to the therapist in time to notice the look of quiet, muted curiosity, "What?"

"…you have no issue making jokes about the subject…but when it comes time to talk about it seriously, you shy away," Dr. Sid observed not unkindly.

A dark look flickered in the teenager's features as she shifted a bit on the couch so as to be able to look over at her therapist, "…aye…well…I don't like to talk about Kyle. The thirty six year old drug addict who beat my ass on a daily basis and got me too hooked on narcotics to even stand up on my own isn't a topic m'overly fond of."

He nodded while she spoke, allowing her to finish before adding, "That is not what I was addressing actually, but your point is understandable. This initial meeting with Metatron was right after his death, wasn't it?"

"Hm…" was Ryce rather non-committal response. He could see she was slipping away from the conversation now, her features pulling together in an expression of guarded annoyance.

"Is it also when you stopped using your real name, Ali?" he asked noting the way her previously relaxed form began to tense at the mention of the name her family used. The name she herself had used until she was sixteen.

"...I've asked you not to call me that," Ryce said, a touch flatly as her eyes narrowed on the doctor.

"It is just a name," Dr. Sid replied in, what would have been for most of his patients, a calming tone.

Ryce's eyes narrowed into a further glare as she stared unhappily at the man, agitation bleeding into the edge of her voice "….no…it ISN'T."

Without so much as another sound, she had returned to her back staring up at the ceiling. The relaxed curve of her form was far more rigid now, arms crossed defensively across her chest. He moved away from the subject for now, hoping to return her to a more tranquil state of being.

"Ms. Finn…do you know why you are here?"

The girl's features softened just a touch as she smirked, "Cause 'Mr. Oz' does not appreciate my humor?"

"And because you're a bucket load of crazy, dear," Dr. Sid reminded her for the fifth time.

A tiny bark of laughter fell from her at his observation, the smirk struggling to remain just so, forcing itself way from blooming into a smile. She turned her head to look back at him, "Only a bucket? M'losing my touch it seems."

Doctor Sidlakus observed her in silence, calm, neutral eyes at rest locked with her own. When he finally seemed to have formed his thoughts enough to continue, he was cut quickly off by the blaring of a car horn from the street outside. Ryce's gaze broke from his own to glance curiously at the open window above her head.

"HEY! Crazy time at the funny farm was over five minutes ago! Get your limey rear-end in gear, Ryce, before we dye your hair white and make you recite historically tinted monologues!" a voice shouted up once the obnoxious honking had ceased.

"…I'd like to take this time to point out that this is the man who actually cannot fathom why I have no romantic interests in him," Ryce sighed after a moment of silence as she sat up from the couch to glare out the window and down on the street. As she suspected, the T-Car sat idling against the curb, several of her living mates waiting outside of its confines. Robert in particular was standing next to the driver's side. The reasoning for this was so allow him to occasionally reach in through the open window and send up blares of honking horn every couple of seconds. A small smile tried to stifle itself on her lips as she imagined the expression of Cyborg's face as Gauntlet continued to reach over him and abuse his 'baby.'

"Hurry! Before you start having inappropriate thought patterns about your mother!" Gauntlet yelled up causing the younger girl to give a small hiccup of laughter.

"Ms. Finn," the therapist said patiently from behind her. Slowly, she sank back down on the couch, turning away from the window. The damage was already done though, that was easy for the psychiatrist to see. She was becoming antsy and fidgety, eyes struggling to not dart back to the window.

"I suppose we are done then for tod-"

"RYCE!" can a scream from the street below.

"M'COMIN'!" in a second she had ripped back up from her seat to lean on the windowsill and scream back at the blond titan.

All Dr. Sid could do, was give a sigh and toss his notes unceremoniously backwards onto his desk.

* * *

It was several minutes later before Ryce emerged from the hospital doors shielding her eyes from the harsh glare of the autumn sun. The others stood milling about in wait for her still. She noticed Gauntlet now had moved to stand more towards the back of the vehicle, rubbing his arm tenderly and pouting. It did not take any particular amount of intelligence to piece together what happened judging by the glare Noel was giving him from several feet away. With a small smirk she made her way over to them opening the car door.

"What's with the welcome brigade?" Ryce asked slipping into the car, "Somehow I seriously doubt you all were struck with the uncontrollable desire to pick me up."

"We all needed to get out of the Tower for a few hours….while it airs out," Cyborg grumbled as he waited for those who could not transport themselves to climb back into the vehicle. In the rearview mirror he could see the youngest of their number raise a questioning eyebrow at his response.

"All you need to know is it involves B's socks, whatever it was Star was making for what we hope was lunch, and the microwave."

"…My microwave?" the effect of the words was instant as Ryce growled dangerously at the green shifter who had made to close the car door. Garfield gave a nervous swallow and apologetic shrug as the clearly hostile girl stared him down. Victor chuckled at the sight of the seasoned hero already cringing away from the tiny girl's stare. Over the passing weeks, they had all come to learn too well that everything within their kitchen had somehow become the property of their maid and chef. Property she protected with furious diligence and hordes of none-too-gentle shades of the dead.

"Tone down the rabies and put the fangs away you delightful midget," Robert said leaning over from the backseat to pat her shoulder placatingly, "Vic's building you a new one anyway."

There was a moment of pouting before her eyes looked up and met Cyborg's in the review mirror questioningly, "…Can it have a popcorn cannon?"

The delight that lit up on the man's features was quickly squashed by the masked hero in the passenger side seat next to him, "Absolutely not."

And now? BOTH Ryce and Victor found themselves pouting. With a petulant little grumbled the cybernetically-enhanced Titan had placed the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. Ryce also voiced her opinion on this with a wordless high-pitched whine. Tim sighed and shook his head thinking of how he so relished these charming moments where the young, typically somewhat mature, woman reminded them of how much younger she was than them.

"So! How went the psychobabble today? Have you allowed Noel to retain his title of most likely to snap and kill us all in our sleep with a rubber pork chop?" Robert asked cutting into her pouting session. The Titans on a whole managed to miss the flinch these words coming out over the COM caused across one of their own's face as she traveled above them.

"I jus' don't see why I have to come here twice a week," Ryce grumbled irritably, "I get it that everyone else had to when they joined up, but m'not even a TITAN…m'the maid."

"No, we didn't," Beast Boy chimed in head over the COM in obvious confusion, missing the way Robin smacked his hand over his eyes and ran it down his face in frustration.

Ryce's eyes widened and then narrowed at the seat before her. After a moment of glaring and awkward silence her voice drawled out, "Oh, that's lovely…if you goin' to lie to me, Tim, then maybe s'good idea to fill everyone else in on it too, you stoplight-colored wanker."

With her final word she aimed sharp kick to the back of Robin's chair.

It was going to be a delightful trip to the mall, he realized.

* * *

All in all, however, Tim Drake would find that upon arrival this little field trip ended up being a great deal less painful then he would have originally dreaded. Piece by piece the various members of his team broke off from the group looking to entertain themselves in their own ways for the next few hours. Soon enough, the Titan leader found himself walking along, browsing storefronts with little interest with only Noel.

"Explain to me again why we came to this over commercialized, corporate rat trap?" The white haired man grumbled looking about with an expression caught between disdain and discomfort.

"Because the Tower is going to smell like wet dog, rotted pears, and low tide for a few hours and I don't need half the team in the med bay being treated for asphyxiation and uncontrollable vomiting," Tim sighed.

"No, I understand that," Savior interrupted shaking is head, "Why HERE though? Why not a park…a museum…watching paint dry…"

A look of annoyance overcame the dark haired man's face, "Because we are no longer WELCOMED in any museum within a thirty mile radius after the unpleasantness involving the Monet exhibit and 47 gallons of ranch dressing."

"To be fair, it is just Gauntlet, Beast Boy, and Starfire who are banned."

"And Scalpel just won't go…apparently the whole incident with the metal detectors has rather turned him off to the whole experience," Robin pointed out, pausing to look quietly at a kiosk of miscellaneous knick-knacks.

"…yes…well…I guess I can understand why two hours of questioning and a swat team because he sneezed might leave a bad taste in his mouth for it," Noel agreed gazing about in increasing boredom. Tim glanced back at the man before raising a brow behind his mask.

"Savior…you didn't HAVE to come you realize?" he asked continuing to stroll forward, "You could have done your own thing."

Noel nodded, "Yes, I know. Raven wanted to stop by the teashop here for a moment, though. Damned if I know where she went now. We were going to both duck out of here afterward…have a little time to oursel-"

"Bow chicka bow wow," a male voice called up from his pocket only to break off with a slight crackle of static, cutting off whatever he had been about to say.

Soon enough a female joined in, "Perhaps s'jus' 'Bow chicka'…selfish lovers don't get to the 'bow wow' part."

Robin tried not to laugh at the immature joking or at the expression on his teammate's face. With a harried look, Savior glanced down as a gloved hand dipped into his jacket to reemerge holding the COM.

"Ryce…Gauntlet…STOP eavesdropping and grow the hell up please?" he snapped in irritated tone.

"Oh, I can't make any comments, but s'okay for you to walk past me and Kon-El when we were talkin' and start recitin' the age of consent laws of Florida,'" Ryce responded.

"…Ryce, they are two totally different issues."

"How so?"

"One involves Superboy going to JAIL, Ryce. Glad we cleared this up," was his final answer before clicking it off and placing it back in the confines of his jacket. He glanced back to Tim whose amusement had quickly turned into interest.

"Gauntlet and Ryce went in opposite directions…how did she-" he began before Noel nodded and cut his thought off.

"Cyborg made gave the kid her own COM just in case of emergency…instead she uses it for innuendo and to bitch and moan that we tend to frown on ignoring age of consent laws," the white haired meta explained.

With a quick glance around and a sigh Noel's shoulders seemed to drop a little. After a moments though he seemed to make up his mind, "I'm going to see if I can find Raven…you alright by yourself?"

A smirk made it's way across the masked man's face, "Hm…I've faced demons, gods, crazed homicidal maniacs, and various other reality warping horrors…but a walk through a crowded shopping center ALONE? Dear god…however shall I survive?"

He could not help but laugh as even before he was halfway done with his sarcastic speech his teammate was walking away and raising a good natured one finger salute in response.

* * *

It was a stupid thing to allow to bother her. She knew this. A light hearted comment made by the team fool meant to garner a laugh, eye roll, or soft smile from the young woman the empath could sense him developing burgeoning feelings for. A smile from a pup's crush…she would have probably found it mildly endearing in a boring sort of way if not for the unintentional irony laced through the words.

Raven sighed, raising a pale delicate hand to press gently into her forehead. It had been a great deal of time since she had last let the incident of Halloween eat at her as it was. The time where nearly everything she knew and understood about the man she loved seemed to shatter beyond repair. Perhaps finding out the darker truth lurking behind it – learning what and who had been pulling the unseen strings attached ruthlessly into her lover's body and mind – had set her heart at ease in some ways. But in so many others it seemed to cause all the more alarm. Alarm at him being that loathsome darkness's puppet again…alarm at the idea of the truth seeping out amongst her still none-the-wiser teammates. It would not be her perspective that shattered she feared if that were to happen….but her family.

And they were her family...**his **family as dysfunctional as they were at the best of times. It was laughable almost. Had one stood before this dark woman a few short years ago and told her of this…well…she would not have laughed in their face. She would not have been able to. Her sheer incredulity at the idea of this only possibly expressed with a cutting sarcasm. Yet, here she stood now…worrying over the protection and binding ties that kept this oversized family hooked meticulously into one another.

A peal of laughter rang out through the air of the shopping center catching her attention. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice pointed out that her oversized family was still somehow growing…whether she had ever thought she wanted it to or not. On the floor below from where she stewed deep in thought, her violet gaze followed the paths of the two women from whom that laughter had emerged. One her long time friend Starfire…the other shorter girl being the odd little urchin they had found barnacled to them for the past two months. Raven watched as the two moved, unaware of her quiet observance, chattering and laughing of a subject unknown to their empathic friend above.

_She's gained weight,_ Raven thought to herself as she watched the smaller girl, _Weight and muscle_. _You'd never know this was the same half starved constantly flinching waif I found hiding on a dumpster in the middle of a storm._

"There you are," a familiar voice said from behind her.

She did not need to turn to see know who this voice belonged to. But she did anyway, some part of her longing to see his face even if she had only moments ago been avoiding it. Noel smiled at her gently…it was an expression that was hers and hers alone. Though she would never say it out loud…she craved that smile. Responding with a quiet quirk of her own lips she moved closer before pushing up on her toes to plant a soft kiss to that rare little smile.

A bemused, but certainly welcoming, expression greeted her when she pulled away, his arms wrapping gently about her waist, "Thought you needed to get your tea?"

In her musings, she had completely even forgotten the reason she had come, she realized, "They were sold out. I think it is time to meet up with the others…say goodbye and leave this sterile human rattrap. Thoughts?"

He explained his agreement with a kiss.

* * *

"I suppose when you explain it that way, friend Ryce, I can begin to understand why you do not enjoy the Twilight," Starfire said with a nod, "I am unsure of how I missed these…unpleasantries."

Ryce gave a small shrug as the pair moved through the lower level of the mall, "Star, you come from a race who wears their hearts and emotions on their sleeves – cept your bat shit crazy sister that is – what you guys say is what you mean. There's no underhanded ulterior 'unpleasantries' as you call 'em. S'easy to miss the undertones of abuse in actions that could be flattering and seemingly 'passionate' or 'loving' on the surface. You guys don't play games and manipulate…you are what you are."

Starfire glanced at her friend, "It is…most ironic for _you_ to comment on the…overlooking of the abusive manipulation and games, dear friend."

"Hm?" the blond asked her head tilting to one side as she regarded the taller woman with an innocent curiosity. It was this expression that quelled the budding serious talk the older Starfire was considering having with Ryce.

"I am sorry…it has...I believe the phrase is, 'slipped my mind,' what I had been planning to say," Starfire said with a smile.

"Aye that s'the phrase, alright. Welp…m'goin' to get myself a soda, Ko-Star," Ryce said quickly correcting herself, "D'you want anything?"

The Tamaranian nodded politely to her younger friend, "If you would see if they had a still sealed mustard bottle it would be most appreciated, dear friend."

Ryce gave a small laugh and a shake of her head before making her way over to a nearby kiosk. Left to herself, Kory glanced around the bustling traffic that flitted to and fro through the shopping center. Bright green eyes scanned the various shoppers and store fronts with quiet, muted interest. With nothing out of the usual catching her eye, she turned back to check on her younger friend's progress.

"My lord…now, who in their right mind would allow such a beautiful young woman to go unescorted on this fine day?" a voice asked from over one of her shoulders.

"Surely, I could not tell you brother…s'right crime though, I must agree," joined what sounded to be the same voice from her other side.

Startled, Starfire turned to find herself seeing double. But that was not quite right…not blurred vision, merely a set of remarkably identical twins. Tall, lithely built young men who appeared to be in their earlier to mid twenties, lounged casually against the side of the escalator, watching her closely. A small blush flickered on her cheeks at the compliments from the two – quite attractive – brothers. Both were clad in dark tight jeans that clung to their lanky forms in a manner that left very little to the imagination. A flash of a grin was shot in her direction from one as the other ran a thin hand through his jet black hair. It was only here that she could discern any difference between them. A shock of violently bright purple streaked through the front of the one on the left's messy, bed-head hairstyle. His twin had the same marking in fluorescent orange running though his.

It was the one with the purple mark that was suddenly standing before her. Her eyes flashed a bit wider not remembering having seeing him even move from his place at the escalator. It mattered little as Starfire was given no time to ponder this before he had her hand in his own, delicately lifting it. With nimble gentle fingers he flipped her hand to expose the under side of her wrist, which with a bow he kissed.

"M'lady," he spoke, voice curling into a half purr as he winked.

If she had thought her face to grow a bit heated with his compliments, this gallant gentle kiss to the wrist all but set her face a flame. A small, unsure smile made its way across her lips as she pulled her hand gently back to her side. From behind the man with the purple streak in his hair she could see his twin sauntering casually up beside them both. He flashed a roguish grin back at her shy smile.

The orange streaked twin said, "If we may be as…"

"…so bold…would you find it rude…" Purple Streak chimed in fluidly picking up where his brother left off without hitch.

"…if we were to inquire your name?" they finished in unison.

Somewhere in the back of her head something had begun to gnaw at and nag her. Something concerning the oddity that someone within this city would not recognized one of its own 'protectors,' especially given her unique appearance. It was an oddly quiet little nagging thought. She was far to busy to bother with it as she smiled shyly eyes locked with Purple Streak's own poison green stare.

As if sensing her hesitation Purple offered her another smile stepping closer, "We're…well I guess you could…"

"…say we're new in town," Orange smirked.

"T-that makes sense," Star answered her voice low and a bit shaky, "My…my name is Starfire."

They took notice. Orange strolled lazily about her, standing behind as his brother stood before. The both took another step closer and that quiet nagging grew even softer. Something about a boyfriend…Tim…danger…wrong….whatever. She was no longer concerned. Such inconsequentially dribble was far too distracting from the heat building in her face and gut…from those beautiful vibrant eyes whose very gaze seemed to caress and tug her a step forward. Another step in fact even as the Twins pressed closer from front and back. A flash of teeth…and she was dimly aware of a hint of fangs as the most intoxicating scent seemed to fill her senses.

"…such a pretty little thing," Purple purred tilting his head down lips centimeters from her own, "I wonder how you look when you ride…I wonder how you taste."

And Starfire…wanted him to know, the warm hand pressing against the small of her back pressing her forward.

And then she was cold…and wet.

Jerking back, she accidently rammed an elbow into Orange Streak's gut sending him stumbling back. The alien woman shook her head, as if to clear it, trying to recall where she was…why her memory seemed to suddenly blank after that delicate kiss to her wrist. When had she moved? And why was she wet? Wide green eyes glanced down at the civilian clothing she had chosen for today's foray to find her top soaked near through with ice-cold brown liquid. A confused glance up found Ryce slowly pulling herself back up from the mall floor, her now empty cup of soda missing its top. A glance to the floor she was a few moments ago sprawled out over found the plastic cover and straw a few feet away.

"Oh…crap…Star m'SO damn sorry!" Ryce sputtered cringing as she looked up at her friend, "There…there was a crack and I slipped… I wasn't watching and I…oh damn it your top."

Too confused to bother with any sort of annoyance over her friend's clumsiness, Starfire just gave a understanding nod, trying to wipe off and ring out what excess liquid she could, "It is….okay my friend. I suppose I will have to travel back to the Tower for a change of clothing."

Ryce was shaking her head in refusal though a hand reaching into her pants pocket. It came out of that pocket clutching a small wad of green bills, which were all but shoved into the Titan's hands, "No….absolutely not. I ruined it I'll pay for a new one. Here…go get a top and jacket from somewhere. My treat."

"Ryce…I cannot accept this…it was only an accide-"

Another shake of her head and shamed smile of apology, "Nope…should have watched where I was walkin'…not lookin' at the cute guy that walked past me's arse. I insist, Star…go get something new and I'll see if I can find your mustard and meet up with you in the others in ten minutes."

She could see that arguing with her younger friend was a waste of her time…and the thought of not having to fly home in the cold in this wet top was indeed appealing. With another moment of hesitation Starfire finally gave a nod and began to walk towards the seemingly sea of storefronts.

Ryce gazed after the Titan as she made her way towards one of the many stores across the way, that sheepish shamed expression not falling from her face. It stayed up in fact until Starfire had left her range of sight and she turned back to the two young man still standing behind her. Eyes narrowed into slits upon them. All the apologetic air fleeing from her expression and eyes as they smirked smugly back at her.

"What the hell are you two doin' here," she hissed.

Purple Streak spoke first, coming forward and taking her hand in the same manner he had taken Kory's only minutes ago, "Now is that anyway to greet family?"

Ryce yanked her hand back with the swiftness of someone burnt, eyeing the handsome young men hatefully. Fangs were bared – just the hinting of them – as she snapped, "Hands OFF, Marid."

Marid – formerly known only as Purple Streak – grinned up at her mid bow. There was no warmth in that smile…no smile really in it either. Ryce took a step back looking to distance herself from that unsmiling grin, when her back collided with another body. She did not have to turn about to know who it was when a lithe pair of arms wrapped about her form. Lithe…but strong.

"Really Little Sister, s'been so long you think you'd be happier to see your favorite big brothers?" the owner of those arms purred in her ear.

"Shaitan, get off'a me," she snarled squirming quickly away out of her older brother's embrace.

She did not have to squirm and protest for long. Just as she was almost out of reach she felt both hands shove roughly against her back, tossing her carelessly forward and away from both twins. With a jerk and a stumble she stayed upright and managed to balance herself before she hit the floor. Using her momentum she turned on her heels eyes flaring hatefully at the two handsome men now sauntering up beside each other. Cruel smirks curled up the corners of both mouths as Shaitan curled his empty arms about his brother instead.

Marid raised an eyebrow at her anger, "So! What is up with this 'Ryce' crap anyway, Ali?"

"We know you are not very bright…" Shaitan drawled on.

Again Marid picked up the sentence,"…but you do know the last four letters of your name are pronounced 'Riss' don't you?"

"Indeed Ala-RISS," Shaitain taunted with odd cruelty.

It was a game she had long ago grown used to and then weary and bored of as she rolled her eyes, "Is there a reason you two assholes are here?"

"Aw…Marid…I still don't think little sister wants to play with us," the orange streaked 'youth' purred turning his face to nuzzle into Marid's neck. Marid for his part just continued to smirk, eyes dipping up and down his younger sibling's body in a manner that at best could be referred to as inappropriate.

"Sadly, she is still caught in these silly little human taboos it appears," Marid said with a shrug and caress to his twin's arms.

Ryce's sneering face skewered up into further disgust, "I assure you…us sharing blood is only one of the many reasons I would rather stab myself then fuck you – either of you."

"Such language!" Marid gasped in faux offense.

Shaitan nodded primly as the apparent 'scandal' of his sister's foul language, "Indeed brother! One would think she was raised by animals."

"Why don't we take a lil walk Ali?" Marid purred his irises narrowing into slits and locking with his younger sister's, "You've gotten prettier…why don't we show you how much we thin-"

His eyes widened a fraction as he jerked away. Behind him a growl was snarling out clearly into the air as his brother leered at the girl before them both. Ill amused eyes traveled down to see his shirt and the four claw marks ripped through the fabric. When Marid's gaze returned to Ryce, he found not a cowering child but a furious young woman, eyes glittering behind her glasses with defiance.

"Maybe that trance shite worked on Starfire…but you try it again on me and I'll break my boot off in your arse, incubi."

"Is there a problem, Ryce?" came a voice from behind the twins, the edge clear within it.

Shaitan gave no indication that he planned on moving from his inappropriately affectionate position as his twin's neck. Even as Marid turned and tilted his head to look slightly upwards he remained draped there, only his eyes following the path of Marid's stare. Scalpel glared down at the twins with an intense gaze, offering up just a hint of protective threat. Even with just that small hint, it was a stare that would have sent most men running to at least the other side of the room if not the other side of the county.

Both twins gave identical smirks.

Just the hint of pink tongue traced out along Marid's lips as he turned that invasive stare away from his sister and to the tall doctor, "Hmm…a Blacktrinian? It's been…"

"…quite awhile since we indulged in one of your kind," Shaitan finished his voice rolling with that same purring sound.

"S'fine Scalpel," Ryce said coolly as she pushed past the two brothers, nearly knocking them apart. Grins laced with icy venom followed her form as she came up beside the alien. Without breaking his glare, Nigel shifted himself between the petite teenager and the twins, both of the two watching as black glee and amusement lit up the 'angels' faces.

"Have it your way, Ali," Marid shrugged.

Shaitan bobbed a bit with the movement of his brother's shoulders, as he lazily gazed down at Ryce, "Maybe we should just slap you around like that charming lad from New York? Kyle right? You seemed to have no qualms over falling on your back for him…then again…wouldn't want Father to have to go through the trouble of ripping the gun out of your-"

Marid's eyes narrowed down at his twin for a moment as he gave a low stern warning to him, "Shaitan."

The effect was immediate, as the man's mouth shut with a little click. All the while the leering smirk remained on her. She met his stare unblinking, jaw set and eyes betraying nothing. Shaitan may have continued in this manner for an indefinite time if not for his vision filling with red. Neck craning up to see Nigel, he raised an eyebrow.

"I believe you both will be leaving now, correct?" the Blacktrinian rumbled.

For a moment, it appeared that neither were going to oblige Nigel's request. Ill impressed and defiant smiles leered up at him and then back down at their smaller sister. Once again, it was Marid who appeared to have the larger share of common sense, giving a slightly dismissive shrug. A hand traced up his twin's arm before gently grabbing his hand to kiss it tenderly and then entwining his fingers with his brother's. Without another word or glance they fell into step side by side and walked away.

"Should we be worried?" Nigel asked his unusual eyes following the pair as they slipped into the crowd. Ryce did not answer him, choosing instead to watch as well, eyes thoughtful. A few moments passed and just as Nigel was about to ask her once more a raucous cry rose up from the movie theater next to them causing both the start slightly.

"I HAVE been waiting in line! For four fuckin' hours! Are you kidding me? How difficult is your job exactly!" a young spectacled blond woman in black was screaming at the bored looking ticket taker. Her screaming and carrying on over the injustices of the people cutting her in line seemed to concern the theater worker little.

Ryce raised an eyebrow at the woman before shaking her head, "What a jackass."

Nigel nodded in quiet agreement as the two continued on down the mall hallways. They had only gone a few yards when Ryce finally remembered his question, "I…don't think we need to be worried per say. The Twins are perhaps some of the creepiest weirdoes our side of the NeverNever…but they're still relatively harmless…for incubi that is."

"Incubi?" Scalpel questioned.

"Aye…sex demons. My father apparently had a…'wild' side at one point that resulted in two sons that will try to hump anything of age that moves."

"Including each other?" Nigel frowned, his brow creasing in disgust.

Ryce did not seem bothered in the least however, "Especially each other…and any other sibling that won't rip their testicles off should they try."

A small laugh bubbled out of her at his expression at that bit of information, "As I said…they're gross but they've also got their own set of rules from Dad to keep 'em in line. 'Sides…they're damn near impossible to keep down. Tied to each other you see. Unless you catch 'em and kill 'em at the same exact time…they come back. They're harder to get rid of then a bad rash. You're better off jus' leaving them to what they want."

"Regardless," Nigel said having not shaken his worry, "We should probably warn the others."

With a silent nod of agreement Ryce looked up to find them standing at a different escalator…the spot designated to the various members of the Tower to meet back at to be precise. The quiet hum of the mechanical stairs mixing with a quiet mumble of another mall goer passing behind her She also found herself and Nigel to be the final returns of the group, having run a bit late in their discussion with the twins. She had just been about to raise her hand in greeting when those near inaudible mumbles repeated ("_…teh-ins…)_…and then they rose into a shout.

"TITANS!"

The group turned eyes wide in surprise at this scream.

The man that stood before them trembled visibly under the harsh light of the mall fluorescents over head. A jittery – watery even – smile made its way across his slight features making him look more nauseous than happy. The loose folds of his neutrally blue pajamas hung on his thin frame. It did not take any one of the gathered Titans long to remember this man and his face. Instantly, Tim's mind recalled the weeks prior to their newest "member" and her arrival, even as said member backpedaled behind them away from the man who had shouted. A young schizophrenic suffering from hallucinations when off his court ordered medication. A young schizophrenic who had only wanted to help and use his aquatically themed "gift" to put out the flames that unfortunately only he could see.

"….Denny," Robin said softly, "How have you been?"

"They…they came to me…." He stuttered that sickly smile twitching.

"Denny, how did you get out of your room?" the masked man continued, all the while keeping that soft voice as he recalled the tidy little room the sick youth before him was last seen in. The kind nurses of Edge City Asylum that, when he had last checked, Denny had come to view with a maternal affection. He had shown them and Tim how much better he was becoming at cursive writing during that visit. His simple happiness over this showing the genuinely nice – if not messed up – kid he really was.

That is, when he was taking his medication.

"They c-came and…and they said unto me…t-that _He_ has a j-job for me. I've been CHOSEN," he informed the tensing super heroes. Out of the corner of his eye Tim could see stands of shimmer snaking their way unseen towards Dennis Mathers. Could hear the quiet murmurs of Raven's spell as she tried to move her lips as little as possible.

"Who has a job for you, Denny? Who came to you?" he asked.

Dennis smiled, "_God_. God w-wants me to cleanse…a-as he has cleansed before…he…he needs MY help this time…to save everyone."

"…why is it always God?" Robert asked tiredly from the back of the group, "Why not Vishnu or Krishna…or Alanis Morisette?"

"Gauntlet…now is not the time," Scalpel replied quietly.

"…Werp…" the blond Titan's only regret was being too far back to poke the team doctor on the nose as he did it.

"If Alan Rickman shows up with gold streaks in his hair and black claws I think we'll all go as crazy as dear old Dennis here" Ryce pointed out in an observational tone.

"Both of you shut up," Cyborg whispered as Robin began to take cautious steps towards the unbalanced man. Ryce gave a final near silent mumble of complaint over never getting to be part of the in-battle banter.

"I really don't think God wants you to do this, Denny, okay?" Tim said his tone continuing in that soft comforting sound.

"Of course he does…they were sent to tell me! They said…said I had t-to stop taking…taking the pills so I could SEE!" Dennis replied his voice hitching higher, eyes wide and watery. He was panicking or on the verge of doing so.

"Who told you, Denny?" It was Noel who asked this time.

A shaky smile began to light up along the young man's face, a smile of sickly blessing and gratitude, "….t-the Angels…God's Angels s-sent from…from on high. Brothers…Beautiful brother Angels s-sent to sp-spread His word."

Silence fell over the group. A few heads turned to look back at the youngest and smallest of their number whose face had dropped comically at the mention.

For a few moments Ryce just continued to stare blankly before giving a sigh and allowing her eyes to grimace shut, "…god damn it, Twins."

The effect of her words was instant, the crazed youth's eyes snapped open and filled with a hateful fury as they honed in upon her. A hand lashed out frantically and the floor beneath their feet began to rumble with an ominous vibration as he shrieked hysterically, "You will NOT take the Lord's name in vain!"

"Ryce, ix-nay the asphemy-blay in ont-fray of the azy-cray ible-bay asher-bay, ease-play?" Cyborg whispered as her eyes widened and she nodded.

"As was …shall be again. Genesis 6:11 and Genesis 6:17," he whispered in the rage shaken voice as he stared upon them.

Before any of them could begin to question this citation of biblical verses Beast Boy frowned and spoke up, "The earth also was corrupt before God, and the earth was filled with violence….And, behold I bring a flood of waters upon the earth, to destroy all flesh…"

"…how and why do you remember things like this?" Gauntlet asked after what at first had seemed to be a dramatic pause.

Narrowing his eyes, the shifter made to respond only to be almost knocked back onto the floor. Balancing himself he found their newest charge stumbling backwards, eyes wide and terrified behind her glasses. A strange choking sound emerged from her throat, strangled and unintelligible. He did not have time to ask what her sudden bout of fear had come from before he felt and heard water trickling gently about his shoes. A memory of Dennis Mathers powers came to mind…coupled with her expression.

"…We're all about to get very wet aren't w-"

The rest was swallowed in a torrent of flooding water.

* * *

He did not have much time…fractions of seconds. But even those minuscule moments were more than enough for the war trained Blacktrinian to know what to do. Perhaps many would have deemed it a cowardly act to not extend this speed to his team on a whole. To merely grab Ryce and go.

Then again many were also stupid and if asked Nigel would have responded with an impolite word or two from his own language.

His ears roared with the sound of water, his gut cramping instinctually at the thought of it and what it would do to himself and the much smaller girl a few yards to his left. Ripping about, he took two swift strides towards her frozen form and grabbed hold. Sweeping her legs up with one arm and balancing her back with the other he continued a step or two more.

"Hold on," he whispered in an oddly calm voice given the situation, satisfied when her arms latched about his neck. With a hand and arm free he leapt upwards unto the side of an escalator. Water soaked the both as it crashed over the lot of them nearly sending him back to the ground. A claw grappled onto the moving railing tightly to prevent this as he smashed his bladed feet into the metal side feeling it dent under his weight. Using his momentum, he kicked himself in a ricocheted fashion launching to the side and upwards. His aim perfect, he lashed his hand out again, now finding purchase on the railing of the floor above, launching himself and his passenger up over the protective glass and onto the dry, linoleum paved second floor.

The soaked girl was shaking unhappily in his arms still gripping for dear life though the waters were only raging through the floor below. Sympathy welled up in the doctor, but he knew it was sympathy that he did not have time for. Extracting her fingers as gently as he could from where they were practically digging into his neck and placed the wet and trembling girl on the ground. He grabbed her shoulder making her look up at him.

"You are to run. Do not stop until you are outside. Do you understand?"

She nodded with a sniff.

It was all the confirmation he needed before he was back up on the guard railing. With a leap, he was across the waters and back on the escalator, beside several of his team mates who had managed to extract themselves from the flood.

Unlike those months ago, she did not pout or delay this order to flee. She bolted down the hall her wet shoes nearly slipping out from under her once or twice. The mall's sudden emptiness lost upon her. Far too enthralled in her own thoughts as she ran. There was an odd sense of déjà vu to this…her mind going back to her frantic scramble to escape the custody of these men and women who were now – at least she would like to imagine them to be – her friends. Yes…she decided as she rounded a corner, most definitely friends, maybe even famil…

The butt of a gun filled her vision and the world went black.

* * *

Author Note: Well THAT a long time between. As an incentive for NOT skinning the authors (more so me), Sloth and I include with this update a **short story to be found here ( www. fanfiction. net /s/ 6536032 /1/ Follow_Me) addressing the first scene in this chapter**. Look for more of these snippets in the future...

Also? This was technically HALF the chapter. I had to split 12 into two separate chapters yet again due to length. Fortunately, while this chapter may be a bit shorter than previously updates this only means chapter 14 is more than half done and will probably be out before Christmas as well. So yay for that. You all know the drill…questions comments and death threats below ^^


	13. Chapter 13

…_Screaming…he was __**SCREAMING**__._

_Her tiny body wretched with her dry heaving unto the floor, succumbing soon to mere exhausted tremors. Within the Orb, the man continued to shriek…wordless, animalistic howls that begged for release. For mercy. Behind it all came the madness and comfort of a sighing bow against a violin's strings…and she tried so hard not to hear how often she could not tell the difference between the music and the screams. How it interlaced. Chorusing with crushing crunch of bone…harmonizing in time with wet, squelching splatters. Mercy…Release…He was given neither._

…_Nor was she._

"_Dad…dy…please…I c-ca….c-c-can't w-watch…" the girl – no more then eleven or twelve years old – begged the man seated in the nearby desk, "Her eyes….oh god, Daddy! P-P-Please dun' make me. Dun' make me, Daddy!"_

"…_Ten more minutes...this will pass."_

"_Daddy!" she sobbed._

_The fiddling stopped. A cool hand drifted down and rested on the back of her neck in comfort and in love. Her entire being leaned into that craved and needed touch as if it were a part of her lost and missed for so long. His voice, smooth and soothing with the pride she longed for, "…it will __**pass. **__You can do it…there's a good girl."_

_Eyes too wide from her skull – too fevered and horrified for her soul – skewered shut at the command in those words. But her head was turning back. She was a good girl…she did as she was told and watched anew, her young tired mind racing to understand what it was she was watching. To understand the creatures within as her father said she MUST._

_From within the Orb, impossible violet eyes stared back at her…and the thing __**smiled**__._

_She began to scream with him._

_

* * *

_

She was coming out of a dream…coming out of a memory that she could no longer quite grasp the weight of as it blended into the monotony of those times. A mouth full of pennies greeted her upon awareness. But even this was not right…pennies were not made of liquid heat nor were they the shape and feel of the hard bits drooling from her open mouth onto the floor.

Ryce spit out the two teeth that had been broken off at the gum line.

Acute, pulsing pain raced its merry way up and down her face, radiating into her neck and back in waves. She did not move though, she knew the game. Play dead and the big bads sometimes go away she had learned far away and long ago. All the tricks of a game Ryce was master of. Her eyes, no more than paper thin slits beneath her eyelids, peered out through a cracked lens to the blurred world around her as two new, gleaming white teeth painfully replaced those lost.

A group of civilians…two men with guns…semi automatic guns.

It seemed a bit unbalanced to her.

Head aching as it was…she did not risk much more than a flick, her blind eye barely glimmering behind an almost closed lid. It was all she needed in the end, as a display across the mall shifted and fell over with a loud, crashing clatter, DVDs raining down unto the floor. Both the gunmen turned in their panic, the other going so far as to open fire on the display that had toppled over within that store.

They could not have even heard so much a single click of her boot heels on the linoleum over the gunfire and frightened screams. But they could still see…and the man who seemed to have a better hold on himself – if his lack of shooting into the frozen faces of this month's 'New Releases' was any indication – did exactly that.

"Get back down on the ground!" he roared and took aim…his target actually alive and moving as opposed to a block of movies. A barrage of near deafening cracks filled the air. Ryce was dimly aware of a sharp pain and burning heat in her left arm…but it was inconsequential as she ducked around a corner and out of sight. Just a graze. More heat than out and out pain.

They did not give chase as she had known (_Guessed? Hoped_?) they would not. After all, it would risk their hold on the remaining hostages. And what type of risk was THAT when the people most equipped at stopping them were busy with that lunatic Dennis Mathers? Ryce continued to run down the hall, vaguely fascinated with the lack of burning in her lungs and the deep calm breaths she was able to take. Her body was humming with energy and adrenaline…for once begging fore more instead of for rest.

When she came to the doors she stopped, remaining hidden to the men and women in black and white cars already pulling up to the evacuating mall. She did not have to reach out with a shade to know that they were unawares to her predicament…to the predicament of the other hostages back behind her. They were distracted and side tracked by the seemingly larger and blinding threat of the mall goers drowning. Look at this hand so you do not see what the other is doing.

It was a tried and true favorite of her brothers.

Logic stated that she should run out, hands in the air and loud as her lungs would allow for. But…this was about her in the end, wasn't it? This was about the two identical faces that were leering down at her insignificance and challenging her to prove them – to prove them all – wrong. It was about whether or not she would cower as always under those stares.

An officer was on his radio and pointing up at the building…away from his car.

Ryce smirked.

* * *

"Scalpel!" Robin called up to the doctor as he pulled himself up and out of the raging currents onto the escalator railing. Without skipping a beat, the alien man slid part of the way down the rail along to grasp his teammate and leader's hand and pull him up the rest of the way. They both immediately turned back towards the rushing waters, Starfire floating quietly above them, all trying to catch glimpses of either their friends or their unbalanced foe.

They did not need to look for long before a cackle like sound clicked up at them. A green dolphin burst up, Terra clinging to its dorsal fin and coughing up swallowed water as it leapt up towards them. Mid leap the body shifted once more to become Beast Boy. One by one they each emerged from the raging flood, alone and in pairs, until the team in full force stood on the broken mechanical stairs.

Well most of them…

"Take her to sea, Mr. Murdoch. Let's stretch her legs!" Gauntlet called out merrily from atop a Gauntlet empowered ship…it looked little to nothing like the vessel his quote referenced, given its myriad of little yellow oars working to keep him inline with the staircase. Looking up to see his teammate blank expressions, he frowned, "Inappropriate timing, then?"

"You have five seconds to get up here before you go down with the ship, Gauntlet," Raven said dryly, a ball of black energy crackling about her hands.

With a nod he attempted to stand from his floatation. He was just about to lift a leg up onto the stationary railing when the Gauntlet boat gave a jerk. Following the jerk in rapid succession were two fists of water one of which knocked into his chest and the other his back pitching him forward. Concentration broken, the boat faded from beneath him and he was once again in the water.

They all moved at once. A flash of shimmer strands lashing down into the waters, managing to seize his arm and tug him back up. A few more hands reached out to grapple onto their sputtering teammate when the stair case shifted beneath them with a groan. Eyes look up to see the rushing waters pushing their sanctuary forward.

"…Scalpel?"

"Yes, Robin?" the alien said with a faux sort of cheer.

"You…might want to hold on to something."

"I hope I am using this phrase correctly…no shit."

The stair snapped away from their bindings and it tilted forward, seeking to flip its passengers back down into the cold dark water. Starfire and Raven took to the air, along with a dangling Savior whose shimmer strands no longer needed to support Gauntlet as he sat upon a yellow door. Without hesitation, Beast Boy flung himself forward into it, body beginning to shift before it hit. When he emerged it was as an over sized saltwater crocodile, sweeping his tail about to fight the current and provide a more stable perch for his girlfriend, Robin and Cyborg. He was waiting for Scalpel to make his way down only for the stairs to finally groan their last groan and flip forwards completely off their hinges. The Blacktrinian's strange eyes widened as he prepared for the impact of the water, only to find his feet slam down unto a solid, if not slightly shaky surface.

"HAH! I knew two people could fit on a floating door," Robert laughed as he lent a hand to steady his teammate.

"Scalpel also isn't a fat chick-OW!" Terra yelped as a single bat out the swarm above her swooped down and slapped into the back of her head, "Jesus! Not everything out of my mouth is about YOU!"

"Terra, Morgue, not now!" Robin barked out over the rush of water, "We need to find Dennis and take him down before he hurts himself or someone else."

"And when we're done…thinking a little chat with those 'brothers' he mentioned is in order," Cyborg pointed out as his scanners began screening through the mall for their target.

He did not have to screen for long, however, before a Dennis once again made himself known. A rushing wave reared up behind them suddenly. Prepared this time, it took a single shout on Raven's behalf and a quick flash of the Gauntlet to send up a shield of yellow and black around them. Water crashed down over the shield leaving them unharmed and dry as from the floor above them Denny began to shout again.

"It is God's way! J-Just like in the time of Noah," his voice cracked in a frightened sounding shrill, as a new host of waves and currents began to bash into the Titans below him.

A weak blast aiming to stun the youth soared over him as her crouched down with a cry of surprise. Cyborg glared over his arm canon taking aim once again, "Kid…you are not Noah and if you think your doing this for forty more seconds let alone forty days and nights then you've got another thing coming."

Dennis sniffled pathetically on the floor as he looked down at them, "T-they said you wouldn't under…understand."

They remaining team members not tasked with keeping their friends afloat and dry took their own aim on the young man. He cowered under their sights and let out a whimper that may have signaled his impending, fear-induced surrender.

And perhaps if they had been afforded just a few seconds more, surrender would have been the result. Perhaps, if Gauntlet and Raven were not so solely focused on the waves crashing down on their shields above them they would have been over and done with this entire situation. But they did not have those few seconds and Raven and Gauntlet were not aware. Instead, the water from beneath them surged upwards in geysers, each well aimed and powerful enough to knock the breath out those in the air. Eyes widened in surprise as the black glowing shield dropped along with the half demon. Water surged down on the Titans with a roaring crash and had it not been for the shimmer wrapping securely about her waist, Raven would have found herself back under the churning rapids.

More geysers began to form beneath them. The telekinetic lashed a wet hand forward chanting in a hopes to restrain the pressurized blasts long enough to allow her teammates to regain their balance and actually launch an offensive on the deranged meta watching on above. With a final cry she unleashed her spell preventing at least some of those blasts.

Unfortunately, it was not the one that had formed unseen under Gauntlet's floating door.

Both the blond and the doctor flipped up and back into the air above the water with cries of surprise. Robert was given no time to react beyond this, crashing down into the surge. He reemerged with a choking cry for only a moment or two before the water swept him out and away from the group. It took mere seconds and soon he was down the flooded hall and out of their sight.

Strange eyes flew wide, instinctual panic flaring deeply within them as Scalpel lashed out his hands seeking any sort of purchase before he came crashing back down. And then he was descending, gravity ripping him towards what spelled death.

Just as he felt his legs began to break the water, his claws made contact. He did not turn his head to see, did not even think. All he did was hook his hands into that surface, his claws normally so delicate in their handling just gouging into whatever it was behind him, seeking a life saving grip. There was a dim awareness of a roar echoing somewhere in the sounds of surging water, but most of his focus could remain only and using that grip to throw himself back.

Safe…he was safe now. His thundering heart began to calm slightly, the thudding of his laboring blood falling from his ears. Beneath him the crocodile that his teammate had become groaned in pain, blood leaking from the nice sized gash in his tail the doctor had left in his scramble.

"…Oh god….Scalpel, I'm gonna kill you man…"

"You okay B?" Cyborg asked in concern.

"From now on he wears mittens in battle…" was the irritable reply.

Whatever apology Nigel may have bestowed upon the shifter was cut off without ceremony as a rumble rose up above the sounds of surging water. With a crash of plaster and concrete the walls and ceiling burst outwards, shattered by the ripping out of every pipe that they formerly housed. More brackish water sprayed out at the team, only this time it did not remain as a simple surge.

Mostly featureless, the hulking forms did retain some rudimentary humanoid shape. A set of arms – in some cases two or three sets of arms, they noted – hung down at their sides attached to a broad set of shoulders. They had no definitive neck, instead possessing what could perhaps be called a fish shaped head that jutted out and away from their form, as if they were permanently hunched over. The water they were composed rippled and shimmered in the flickering lights over head, bodies never fully still as more water surged up their geyser like base fueling their mass.

Robin's eyes narrowed on the water formed sentries that had begun to bare down on them…his hand falling to his belt.

* * *

Meanwhile…

"…fuck you Harry Potter…and fuck you too AMC theaters."

The Woman in Black who had previously been yelling at the ticket taker sat perched on top of the overhang of a store front. She attempted to wipe some of the water off her glasses as she glared at the movie theater across the way, the water surging by covering all but its sign.

"Excuse me ma'am?"

She glanced to the side to find a rather official looking man in a suit holding a brief case looking down at her as he stood upon her overhang. Ill amused, he informed her in a clipped, formal tone, "I'm here representing my client Blizzard Entertainment in regards to your blatant copy right infringement with water element-!"

The woman in black looked bored and shoved him back into the water…

…where he apparently was devoured by a small pink and blue Murloc.

"Whateva…I do what I want," she quipped. The remaining copyright lawyers waiting in a line above her…no longer seemed interested in climbing down.

* * *

A blade of Shimmer slashed through one of the hulking water creatures, slicing it in half. A rush of water rose up through its base in and instant refilling the wounds Savior had inflicted upon it even as its ham sized fist surged for the dangling meta's face. Connection with flesh was never made as instead the limb smashed into a glowing black shield, splashing out against it destroying the hand, only to once again have it reform.

Several feet away Starfire was having just as much luck in her endeavors. A growl of exertion ripped up and out of her as a star bolt smashed down into the water construct. It jerked back, steam rising up in a sizzling hiss. The faceless visage seemed to 'look' up at her before several shots of water launched up at her like bullets. Ducking and weaving she continued to rain white hot energy down on it, growling in frustration as it merely gathered more water to fill in whatever hole she made.

A black furry form jerked down from above her followed by several more. A sonic infused shriek arose from the cloud vampire bats, their sights set on the cowering man clinging to the second floor railing. They were feet away…soon to be inches when the geysers rocketed up again from below, striking the bats with uncanny aim right to their furry little chests.

Scalpel, Cyborg, Robin and Tara were making just as little headway in their 'ground' fight. Every blast and strike seeming to leave its damage, only to have the 'wounds' heal with a quick surge of water. Their supply was seemingly endless as the halls continued to flood. A water man finally surged up their crocodilian teammate, ignoring the jaws that snapped down with a crack over it. So focused on the two elementals he was already slashing at with his staff, Tim had just enough time to glance back before it had grappled hold and pulled him back into its body.

Within the water, his eyes widened behind the mask as the water pressure raised into a binding grip. It was trying to drown him with its body even as it whirled about to swing a bulging fist for Terra. Chest burning Robin tried to jerk his arm, or even wriggles his fingers far enough to grip one of the detonators on his belt. He never had the chance, however, as the water dropped in temperature, hardening against his skin in a nearly crushing embrace. Luckily, it was an experience of mere seconds before the ice shattered, sending air rushing back into his lungs. A bladed hand gripped his and ripped him out of the frozen creature. There was no time for concerned glances or even thank you's to both the Blacktrinian and Cyborg, he just flung himself back forward.

* * *

Dennis Mathers watched them quietly, blood-shot eyes darting this way and that as he controlled his water minions. Some where along the way he had once more struggled out of his clothing, tossing the wet pajamas into a heap beside him. They were sure to tire soon enough, sure to succumb to the rush of water beneath them as their teammate had before. It was a matter of time and of patience. He could be patient for God. God was good. God was kind…he had sent him a job. Maybe it…seemed wrong. But the Angels would not lie to him. They could not! Servants of God above and the heavenly host were above the lies and the deceit that plagued the flawed breed, man. The youth assured himself he was doing the right thing again for perhaps the hundredth time that day as he turned his back on those below.

There was no signal, no warning. One second he was watching the progress of his heavenly mission, the next his vision went black, pain flaring through his face. He hit the ground with a thudding crash, elbows ramming sharply into the hard floor. Sparks of light and color seemed to swim in his vision as he felt warmth gushing from his nose and down his face. A hand flashed up to his nose, to find it out of joint and swelling, blood flowing freely from its shattered inner workings. Confusion blooming across his face, he looked up to find one, Robert Candide, bearing down on him.

Now, when Robert had pulled himself up from the raging waters half way across the mall, he had been annoyed. Perhaps he had even been down right pissed. Speeding back to his team, arm activated and at the ready, he could not have said exactly what he had been expecting to happen. Even when he came upon the battle, seeing Mathers standing there back facing him, he was not sure. A battle, a fight, even just a simple struggle had crossed his mind as he snuck up behind the hydrokinetic young man, prepared to handle any or all three as a fist swung towards his turning face.

…what he had NOT expected was the boy to burst into tears.

Blue eyes widened a bit in surprise as Denny began to let out braying sobs, a hand cupping his broken bleeding nose. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he looked up at Gauntlet in fear and pain, trying to scramble up and away from the shocked looking Titan. Dimly, the blond was aware of the sudden quiet…the waters that had stopped rushing in their torrent roars. Only dimly, however, due to the volume of Dennis Mathers frightened whimpers and cries.

"…I…wait…no…are you okay?" Robert sputtered, concern over taking him regardless of what the younger meta before him had just been doing.

"P-Please…dun…dun hurt me…I'll…I'll be g-good. I p-promise," Dennis stuttered, flinching away with and unhappy sniffle. Shaking his head, Gauntlet took a step forward a hand reaching out to help Dennis to his feet. The boy let out a cry and cringed, as if expecting a blow.

How in the world this has ended up with HIM feeling like a right ass, Gauntlet was not sure. But here he was, waters receding beneath him, a frightened and bleeding mental patient in his twenties – and perhaps mentally closer to a single digit age – cringing away in fear. And dear lord above…that was some brilliant flare of pity and shame welling up in his head for being the cause of that fear.

"Denny, it is okay. I'm…well…I'm sorry I hurt you," he said soothingly.

"Why…why did you hit me?" Dennis whimpered pulling himself to his feet, "I…I only…"

"Dennis you are hurting people…God would not want that. You have to know that," Robert said softly.

The youth looked hurt and torn by these words, "But…but the Angels…"

And then something seemed to dawn in Dennis' eyes. It was as if a light had switched on or a vital connection had finally been made as understanding and shame began to flood his face.

, "…they…they t-tricked me…didn't they?" he whimpered dropping his head. Tears began anew in thick streams down his face. It was truly a sad and pathetic little sight for the Titan to behold. A confused kid…not a crazed criminal. Weak and vulnerable. A surge of anger bolted up him at the idea of the kind of despicable person it took to use a kid like this.

"You didn't know, Denny," Robert whispered calmingly as he took another step forward, "You had no way of knowing."

"Th-they always trick me! People always…they always…I…I didn't wanna h-hurt anybody," Dennis whimpered staring up at the blond man in solemn grief, "I…they said…they said that God would…would make me better. That no one would trick me any more! That I could be…be a hero like y-you g-guys. I'm sor…I'm sorry!"

Robert smiled at him, containing the spike of anger and focusing on the sympathy, "It's all okay. It'll be alright…no one's mad at you."

Uncertainty flickered in Denny's face as he regarded him, "...p-promise?"

"Of course."

And then Gauntlet found himself being hugged tightly.

…by a naked man.

"Um…there, there? Okay…I feel bad for you, but not THIS bad. Denny? Dennis? I am not comfortable with this," he said a touch awkwardly trying to extract himself from the once again sobbing and still unclothed youth. He had almost succeeded in doing so when a heartbroken wail went up from Dennis and the pipes along the walls below began to shudder once more.

"Gauntlet! Stop!" Robin yelled from down the hall, seeing the distress his attempts at less discomfited freedom were causing as Starfire carried him over the railing.

"I need an adult!" Robert whined back at him still wriggling.

Below, the trickle of residual water began to pick up in speed, "Let him hug you, it keeps him calm!"

Robert looked back at him, jaw open and closing soundlessly as Dennis' sobs began to even out and lessen. The water below slowed to a trickle and then a drip with every slower breath the hydrokinetic took. Soon enough even the drips began to slow, the rest of the Titans making their way up from the ruined first floor.

Dennis began to nuzzle him like a small child with a teddy bear.

"…oh…the author can just go to so many different layers of hell," he grumbled.

A small creature looking not unlike an oversized, pink and blue fish-frog, went running past shaking a spear above his amphibious little head. It gave a gobbling sound and the spear swung around to sharply crack Gauntlet in the back of the calves. He let out a pain yelp and the fish-frog ran away, letting out that same watery gobble as he dove off the floor into the calming waters below.

"…what the hell was that!" Robert yelled.

"Just STOP insulting her…when are you going to learn," Noel grumbled grabbing a blanket from a conveniently placed kiosk to drape over Dennis Mathers' shoulders. No one made any comment of the women in black floating calmly down the mall hallway in a row boat.

"So…" Noel said, raising an eyebrow at his teammate. Attention drawn, Robert turned to his teammate as he managed to reincorporate some level of modesty to the youth clinging to him with that blanket. Then, in what might have been the rarest moment of all time, Noel joked, "this is probably the most action you've gotten all year."

"Grumble grumble…an insult about your mother…grumble grumble," was Robert's only response as returned to staring forward Dennis' arms still wrapped tightly around his torso.

* * *

"Dennis!"

Noel's attention broke away from his debriefing for a moment at the shout. It did not take him long to find the middle aged woman who had shouted as she quickly hopped out of the van with Edge City Asylum logo blazed across its side. A matronly, heavy-set woman, with brown settling into grey hair. Her gaze fixed on the young man they had several minutes ago escorted from the inside of the mall.

Up until now Dennis Mathers was focused solely on keeping at least one arm wrapped about Gauntlet at all times, occasionally using the other to tug the blanket up around himself. The second the woman was up and out of the van however, this fixation wavered, his eyes widening in delight as he finally released Robert.

"Nurse Jenny," he smiled sleepily and reached out for her instead much to Robert's obvious relief.

"Mr…um…well Savior?" the young officer asked forcing the Titan's attention to return to him, "If you're done with your statement, sir, I have to address the Carrowly brothers incident."

Savior nodded quietly, not questioning this secondary incident as anything of concern. Instead he made his way over to the older woman who was now hugging the hydrokinetic closer, much to his apparent comfort. He looked more like an over sized four year old than a man just settling into adulthood. Catching his approach she looked up from her quiet comforts to greet him, disengaging a hand from her embracing to extend to the white haired man.

"Jenny Cobb, head nurse in this one's wing. Good to see you so well, Savior," she nodded shaking his hand.

Choosing to ignore the agitating familiarity and implications of this he glanced down to the smaller meta, "How did he get all the way here with no one noticing he was gone?"

A wan smile crossed her drawn face as she sighed, "Same way as the Carrowly brothers…we were stretched so thin with everyone else running about that a few managed to slip away."

"What do you mean running about?" chimed a new voice. A glance to his side had Noel finding a majority of his team beginning to gravitate over to this conversation. Beside him Robin frowned a bit as he continued, "I do not mean to question your abilities Nurse Cobb…but that mental facility harbors the psychologically unbalance – meta human psychologically unbalanced – and I know for a fact has more than ample funding to have a more than substantial staff."

"Oh, you would be correct kiddo, but when every single locking mechanism fails and you have the entire hospital running through the halls and out onto the lawn…even the best most 'substantial' staff is going to have major issues," she informed him.

"Every single patient was let out?" Cyborg asked, eyes widening in alarm as the stouter woman nodded her head.

Lifting a hand palm out and calmly she stopped that alarm, "Aye. But nearly all of them were kept within the grounds. In the chaos of it all we were not able to notice the escapees immediately. We were lucky that only three made it past…" she glanced down to frown slightly as the young man starting to doze against her, "We were not so luckily that it happened to be the three that did."

A troubled frown crossed Raven's face as the woman spoke, "You keep saying three…who else managed to esca-"

The rest of her query was cut off in the shriek of tires. Glancing to her side with the rest of her team, the empath caught sight of the large white media van pulling up nearby. It was followed by two more. And if she craned her neck just so she could also see several reporters making their way over, camera men in tow. Jenny Cobb frowned heavily and the approaching men and women. A hand reaching up to gently caress Dennis' head soothingly.

"Well boys and girls…if you do not mind I want to get Denny here back before these vultures go on and spook the poor kid," she said nodding as she attempted to lead the hyrdrokinetic back to the quaint white van behind them.

But Dennis resisted with a tiny whimper looking back to the Titans. He dropped his eyes even as he did it, shame faced, "…I'm s-sorry."

"It is okay, Dennis," Robin replied, "But from now on if you are seeing anything like that you need to talk to Nurse Jenny okay?"

He nodded fervently, giving a tug to his tightly wrapped blanket shroud, "I p-prom…promise, Mr. Robin."

"Yea…maybe if you can go a month without flooding the city and getting naked, your boyfriend here will send you an autograph," Terra said smirking up at Robert, who could only grant her an ill-amused look. But the displeased expression and the implications of the Titan's comment was lost on Dennis. An impossibly wide smile flashed across his face, hope flickering timidly in his eyes as he looked up to Robert.

"…R-really?" he asked in a tiny excited voice.

In the face of such happiness over something so little, Robert couldn't help but let the annoyance bleed out of his face. Nodding, he returned the man's smile, "Yea, sure. Why not?"

A thrilled squeal ripped out of Dennis as he threw his hands up and around Robert, blanket fluttering away and to the ground. For only, a moment Robert's eyes flew open wide again, finding himself back to the naked hugging.

And then came the camera flashes.

"Gauntlet? Mind turning this way for the National Enquirer?" a man in a cap asked snapping away.

"…Is there ANY chance at this headline not questioning my sexuality?" the Titan sighed.

"Probably not," the man answered honestly and returned to his camera clicking.

Meanwhile, a few feet away, the rest of the team was handling their own media issues. This line of questioning at least seemed a touch more seriously minded than their blond teammate's treatment. Oddly enough, the lot of them seemed to also keep a respectable distance, camera and microphones not quiet shoved as insistently into their faces as one would have come to expect by now. The cautious glances to Noel, seemed to answer the unasked question as to why.

"Robin…any word on how Mr. Mathers and the Carrowlys managed to escape their confines?"

"Any comment on the methods employed to your new teammate? Any comment on the new Titan in general?"

"Do you have an opinion on what should be done to Jacob and Marcus Carrowly in light of today's events?"

The questions came to an abrupt halt as the masked hero raised his gloved hand in an attempt at restoring order. The small crowd of reporters and cameramen waited expectantly as he considered their questions with a look of confusion.

"Who are the Carrowlys," Morgue chimed from beside him, the mask over her face covering what could have only been a confused expression.

"Jacob and Marcus Carrowly," a young man in a button down and tie supplied for her, "Recent transfers to Edge City Asylum from Greenbow, Alabama. They were taken into custody twenty minutes ago thanks to the quick action by your newest teammate."

This did not seem to quell the confusion racing throughout the team's faces. Beas Boy shook his head and began to question, "What new teamma-"

"Did anyone bother to look for Ryce?" Nigel suddenly interrupted, strange eyes cringing in realization.

"… … … …"

"…Oh…this is going to be fun," Terra sighed gripping her head as if struck by a sudden headache. A near silent curse grumbled out from Noel as Robin pressed forward towards the crowding reporters.

"I'm sorry but we have no comment. If you have any other questions they will be addressed at a later time when we have more information," he informed those gathered firmly. A grumble seemed to rise up from the group, a few even looked ready to ignore his words and continue questioning. Those few also managed to steal one last quick glance at the white haired man standing with them before deciding better of it. Within moments, they had already begun to dissipate, all scuttling forward to find more willing sound bite providers.

"Excuse me?" a voice rose up from nearby.

Annoyance flashed over many of their faces as their attention was drawn to a young dark haired woman behind them. Her camera man hung close behind her, balancing his equipment on his shoulder though he was not filming.

"Ma'am I already said we are not taking any more questions," Tim informed her, eyes narrowing behind his mask as he made to walk away.

"No! I'm not trying to ask anything more," she assured them, taking a few steps forward and waving her cameraman up, "You just seemed confused by what they were saying. I have the footage of what happened in our van. With the girl and the Carrowlys."

She pushed past them without another word, skirting around the other reporters and officials making their way towards the mall. The small dark blue van was nearly unnoticeable where it was sitting against the curb in the increasing shade. They followed soundlessly with curious expressions as she wrenched open the back door to reveal a myriad of monitors, equipment, and buttons.

"We pulled the security tapes for most of it. We lucked out that the stupid asses managed to take their hostages right under one of the mall cameras," she said, fiddling with a knob or two as she pushed a monitor towards them.

Robin nodded looking at the screen as he waited, "Who are these Carrowly brothers then?"

"Bad dudes," the cameraman supplied frowning at the Titan from where he stood.

"Bad dudes indeed," his reporter nodded, never looking away from her work, "BIG story out in Alabama, but it never seemed to catch nationwide attention. Jacob and Marcus Carrowly. Jacob being the elder of the two brothers. Both were caught standing over one parent a piece, gore and brains and god knows what else all over the walls. It was a nasty scene. They took both brothers down kicking and screaming…real freak out from both of them."

"They wake up the next day and ask where they are," the camera man slipped back into the conversation, "Zero memory of what happened. Of what they did to the old folks."

"They pled insanity," Robin stated gravely.

Pulling away from her work finally the reporter gave a nod, "Yup. Claimed to have no recollection of the events that occurred. They tell both men what happened…and then came the abuse claims. Sexual, mental, physical…you name it, they said their parents did it from the time they were born until the boys ran off at fourteen and sixteen. Fourteen and sixteen…no one heard from them for nearly ten years. Til they did that is."

"And what? They just blanked out? For no reason at all? They came home to their abusers for no reason?" Noel asked, a bit more harshly then probably needed.

A humorless smirk crossed the reporter's face, "Ah, but there's the defense…they don't even remember going home they tell the court."

Noel shook his head and waved it off dismissively, "That's a Twinkie defense…its ridiculous. Any jury would see right through it."

It was Scalpel who raised a clawed hand to interrupt, "Unless…they had a means to claim such memory loss."

That humorless smile warmed a little as she turned to the doctor, "Ah…he's getting it."

"Insanity Defense…no recollection of events…and a previous history of alleged abuse with the victims. If I may hazard a guess, ma'am? Dissociative identity disorder?" the tall alien asked as she nodded.

"Indeed. DID. Jacob and Marcus didn't kill their folks…they wanted nothing to do with them now that they had earned their freedom. Simon and Billy, however, wanted to make mom and dad pay."

"Simon and Billy?" Beast Boy asked, head tilting in confusion

"Personalities manifested and nurtured in their childhoods," Nigel explained, "One of the theories behind many alleged DID cases is believed to be caused by severe childhood trauma or abuse…the patient 'dissociates' from their own self. They create this other 'being' to allow themselves the cope with the trauma. They are not the ones suffering, but instead this invented 'consciousness' within themselves."

An impressed look over came the reporter's expression as she regarded the Blacktrinian. "A doctor I'm guessing."

"Indeed."

"Thought so…you talk like my brother, Patrick. He's a doctor over in Genesis Labs downtown," she nodded, "Well…in the end Jacob and Marcus proved to a court of their peers what everyone had become so convinced of. They avoided death row and were plopped down into a cushy mental institute. Won governors' sympathy and were transferred to Edge City four months ago."

"Somehow, judging by your demeanor, that sympathy has since run south?" Robin asked as the reporter adjusted the screen one final time.

"Oh yes…the men all but admitted it to be an act when they phoned in their demands a little while ago. Their parents? Not abusers…just investors in off short accounts," she sighed, "They may have had the patience to fool the jury in Alabama…but they were too trigger happy with actual guns it seemed. If not for your little friend we'd have a lot of dead former hostages on our hands."

With a tap of a button the screen before them began to play.

The video began with the infamous Carrowly brothers having already gathered their hostages – many of them women and children – and gathered them into a tightly huddled and frightened mass cowering on the mall floor. The brother's faces leered in relative clarity on the mall's high tech security system as they shouted unheard orders down at their captives. The taller of the two seemed to tense, head darting over his shoulder to look down the unseen mall hallway.

"The larger of the two is the older brother 'Jacob,' the reporter whispered quietly, "And here comes…"

She darted unto screen, rounding the corner as she looked back over her shoulder. Jacob was on her in two quick steps, lifting his large gun up in two hands back over his shoulder. Just as she was turning her head back to look forward, the butt of the semi- automatic came crashing down into her face with what at the time must have sounded with a sharp crack as it smashed into her teeth.

"God damn it, Ryce," Noel groaned in what might have been concern as their maid crumpled to the ground limply.

"Ah-ah-ah…don't count her out yet," their reporter friend smirked, "I must say for something so tiny, that kid has a lot of chutzpah."

A few more dials were turned and the video on screen began to speed up, a few minutes passing as the brothers darted about nervously in faster motion. When it stopped they were hovering back over their still conscious captives. Marcus jerked around swinging his gun in a wide arc, suddenly as he opened fire behind him at one of the stores. The effect the sound of the bullets had was instant, Ryce scrambling up to her feet and sprinting off screen and what they could only assume was down one of the halls.

It was Jacob who seemed to notice her first, as he turned, mouth opening in a soundless shout, gun flashing out in soundless shooting. Several faces in the group flinched and paled in more obvious concern. Robert pushed forward a bit to actually grab at the screen.

"Is she-"

"Wait a moment and please take the sticky fingers off my equipment," was his answer as the video began to pick up again.

"…I don't have sticky fingers."

"Ah," she said ignoring him as the feed slowed once more, "Here comes the fun part. I must say your friend – Ryce was it? – is a touch on the utterly insane side isn't she?"

Dread washed over Tim as he tried to imagine what it was that was about to come on screen. He did not have to wait too long to see…or even watch all that closely. One second, the Carrowly brothers were pacing their way up and down the line of hostages. The next, Jacob was pointing down the hall and shouting something to his younger sibling animatedly.

The police car's lights flared with a streak of light as the vehicle came crashing on screen, debris and rubble from the damage its careening had done flying every which way. Bother brothers dove out of its path as it collided with a kiosk spraying tacky knick-knacks out into the air.

They watched wide eyed as the dust and debris settle around the stolen vehicle after it had screeched to a halt. Several yards away, one of the brothers' guns lay against the linoleum floor where it had skidded after being dropped. By the wheel well of the car lay Marcus, slowly pulling his dazed self back up onto his hands and knees. He seemed to spot something near the front of the car, scrambling for it urgently.

He made it to the driver's side door. He went no further, however, as it swung open in a flash, into Marcus's face and knocking him backwards. He did not stir when he hit the ground and their petite maid emerged from the car fully, looking down at him in a clearly annoyed manner.

To the left of the cars hood something stirred, drawing her attention away from the unconscious murderer lying next to her feet. They watched as her eyes seemed to lock with the elder sibling struggling to his feet before her. He looked away first, eyes catching something else of interest on the ground. Her head turn, eyes following the path of his own gaze before they finally came to rest on what it was that held his attention so raptly.

Jacob dove forward in a swift scramble; he was closer to the gun…much closer, in fact. Ryce sprung forward a step before him, and even this was not going to be enough to reach it in time. Face blank of all else except rage and greed, he lunged for his downed weapon, fingers brushing the strap. Even as he lunged, they could see her dropping, down a leg stretched out before her in a baseball-esque, well practiced slide. The gun was jerked from his grasp and he stumbled over her extended leg. Both heads turned to watch as the gun slid across the ground and then through the crack beneath the second flood guard rail. The Titans could practically hear the plunking splash as the weapon toppled from the ledge into the waiting water below.

Another thing they could almost imagine hearing? The crack of Jacob's back hand across the much smaller girl's face. She was not prepared for it, her head snapping to the side at the force as she toppled backwards towards the ground. A quick twist of her arm, however, braced her fall and allowed Ryce to nearly flip back up to her feet, using the momentum to carry her.

The agile movement did nothing to impress of deter her assailant as Jacob surged towards her, a fist poised at shoulder height and aimed for her face. With a quick dodge, Ryce's left hand snatched up to grab the crazed man's thrown punch from the underside of his wrist. A quick flick of her own hand twisted that arm painfully, pulling Jacob in towards her as he knee flew up and implanted itself into his crotch. She wasted no time bringing her leg back down to steady herself, before her right arm flew up to catch the falling man with the palm of her hand, smashing the man's nose into his face. A dark flash coated him from the lips down as blood flooded from the now broken nose.

The Titans could only watch as their maid released his twisted wrist and took a step backwards, her weight shifting back into her left leg. Robin recognized the movement and knew even before her right leg curled up and around where the blow was going to land. He was not disappointed to see the roundhouse kick plant itself into the crazed gunman's jaw, blood and spit splattering from his mouth as he dropped completely to the floor. Ryce over balanced and fell herself to her side, watching Jacob's prone body in stillness before the tape cut away to reveal an older reporter employed by the same station as their new friend.

In the background, they could dimly hear this woman speaking, reiterating what it was viewers had just seen play out. A time stamp in the lower left hand corner informed them that this broadcast had played out live on the air, some ten minutes before. Robin dragged a hand over his face, mind running a mile a minute in a tempest of concern and annoyance with the small girl. A police car…she drove a POLICE CAR through the MALL.

"Someone wanna come with to find Mini-Ramboette?" Cyborg asked, clearly trying, and failing, to keep the amusement off is face.

"Only if I get to strangle her when we find her," Savior answered flatly glaring at the monitor.

"You are not going to strangle her when you see her," Robin cut in, shooting the white haired meta a look, and then grumbling, "…I'm the leader so I get to go first."

Several feet away, still watching the news report that followed the footage, Scalpel glanced over to his harried looking friends for a moment before shaking his head, "Well look at it this way…at least she had the good common sense to remove herself and not talk to the pres-" and then the camera panned to the side to reveal a disheveled but exhilarated Ryce, "Oh…well…never mind then."

A clear groan rang up from several of his team mates as Noel actually began to address the screen as if the reporter on the other side could hear him, "No…she's stupid don't ask her actual **questions**."

As one would expect, she did not hear him – especially considering this was already recorded form an earlier news cast – as the older woman began to question the tiny British teenager.

"We are standing outside of the Teeterbrook Mall with a young woman, indentifying herself only with the name 'Ryce,' responsible for saving over a dozen mall going citizens today. So, Ryce, what was going through your mind when, minutes after not only escaping but being fired upon, you went back into the building for the hostages that had been left behind?"

A slight shrug of her shoulders was given by their maid on the screen as she glanced between the reporter and the camera all but being shoved into her face with clear discomfort, "Well…honestly? Not much. I um…I jus' did it without thinkin.' Apparently I do that a lot."

("Thinking can often be difficult for those with the mental capacity of a jar of mayonnaise," Raven sighed, shaking her head.)

"Well, your actions today may have saved lives…not particularly surprising given the company you keep," the woman smiled a touch indulgently before glancing back to the camera, "As many of you at home have seen in the passing weeks, 'Ryce' has become known for her mysterious appearances in the company of city protectors, the 'Titans,' her actions today finally answering the question of her status on the team's rost-"

"M'not a Titan," Ryce cut it quickly, "M'actually uh…the maid."

The words seemed to cut through the woman's faux concern, something sly glinting across her face as she turned back to the tired looking Ryce, "Oh! Well then, that explains your more welcoming nature to speaking with us today. If I may Miss Ryce, perhaps you could share with us the story on life with the Titans? What is it like outside the hero circle, living beside them and baring witness to all the 'dirty laundry,' so to speak?"

Several minutes after this was recorded, a majority of those Titans would tense, eyes wide in suspense. Robin's eyes narrowed behind his mask immediately after, glaring daggers into the woman holding the microphone into Ryce's face. The short girl's eyes had crossed slightly to look at it before darting back up to the woman. Even on screen he could see the nervous exhaustion glazing over her expression…and so could this reporter.

"Journalist to blood sucking paparazzi in 2.3 seconds flat," Cyborg frowned, "That has to be a record."

The Ryce on screen gave Robin no time to respond to his teammate's observation, "Well…s'pretty cool. I've learned a lot 'bout them. 'Specially Savior…know his real name and everything."

Dimly, Nigel believed he could hear one of Noel's teeth crack as his jaw clenched down harshly. The Blacktrinian winced, watching with quiet dread as the newswoman's eyes glittered alit with greed, quickly prompting the teenager to continue her thought. He had to believe she would not be this stupid…that she COULD not be. Memories of their first tumultuous days after her arrival to their world were flooding into his memory banks, though, battering down his hope beneath the encroaching certainty that she was going to say-

"Aye…Savior s'actually Natalie Wood."

Both the reporter and the Titans stared at the girl. Ryce seemed oblivious to the journalist however as she nodded seriously, "That whole 'drowning' thing? Total hoax. She'd been tired of the Hollywood lifestyle…and pretending to be human, you know how PAINFUL it was to keep her tentacles – ah m'sorry the 'Shimmer' – under her dress? All in all, she really wanted to jus' get out'a the spotlight. Made the sex change easier, you see? Even the superhero thing s'jus' a ruse to cover up 'his' REAL passion of dressin' like a gay man and working on his scowl…scowlin's like ballet to their kind."

The woman pulled the microphone back slightly, granting the camera a nervous look before addressing the angel once more, "…Um…heheh…are…are you kidding?"

All at once, that solemn and serious expression melted from Ryce's face, replaced instead with an icy sort of stare, an eyebrow quirking up towards her hairline, "Aye, since you're clearly tryin' to use how bloody damn tired m'feeling to trick me into sayin' something that'll get my arse kicked, m'making it all up to fuck you and him to a lesser extent…oops, sorry about that…can't say 'fuck' on TV, right? You can edit that bit out later."

"…we're live."

"…ah…well then…sorry about that even more," Ryce said dryly clearly not sorry in the least, "You mind if I take off then…seeing as your career is currently morphin' into a 4Chan meme?"

* * *

Several miles away, while the Titans led the young shaky Dennis from the mall and their maid made use of the cutting wit she so like to hold to, David Stathis was standing in his kitchen. Glancing over his shoulder, he called out to the girl doing her weekend homework in the living room, "Becky? It's time for lunch, babe."

Becky Stathis looked up from her algebra with a nearly undetectable flinch at the sudden voice. Her therapist said even that would probably fade with time, she would be grateful when it did. Then again, it was a very small price to pay she believed.

"C-coming daddy!" she called back, a small – perhaps even a bit timid – smile working up onto her face.

Several feet away, Darcy sat, a costume cape wrapped around her shoulders. Her lap was occupied by her steadfast companion, Beast Boy the plush plus a newcomer, a misshapen doll her sister had helped her make in the week after she had come home. Becky looked at the blob like monster Darcy had become so attached to with its yarn stitched fangs and mismatched button eyes. Their father had been confused to say the least when Darcy had showed off her nameless new friend who slept not in her bed, but right in front of her open closet every night. When he asked about the young child's change of heart regarding 'monsters?'

"She's a _good_ monster, daddy," the kindergartener had sighed in exasperation.

….Becky rather agreed with that sentiment.

"Dar? C'mon time for lunch," she said quietly as the little girl flicked through her channels looking for a cartoon of some sort.

"My Little Pony is on soon."

"We'll come in and watch it right aft-"

And then the world around the teenager seemed to freeze. Never bothering to finish her thought she lunged forward and ripped the remote control from Darcy's hand, ignoring her cry of protest. It had been quick, Darcy knew all the 'boring' stations and flicked through them without sparing a second glance. Quick or not, it had been enough for Rebecca Stathis. It had been enough because even if she was getting better she still woke up several nights a week a scream on her lips and a cold sweat soaking through her pajamas and into her bed. And in those times, where she was too terrified to remember that she was home and in her bed safe, not crouched into the dirt with slats of light raining down around her with the run off of blood…she recalled that face.

She clicked the channel back a few places…and then there she was.

"Well…honestly? Not much. I um…I jus'did it without thinkin.' Apparently I do that a lot."

Rebecca stared, her entire body beginning to shake as Darcy's complaint continued without regard. Darcy was not what mattered right now.

"Daddy!"

* * *

"Well…at least she didn't make you Lindsay Lohan or something," Terra chuckled from beside Noel as they watched the reporter's face contort angrily on the screen.

Robin finally released the breath he had been holding, relief etching out into his features, "She handled that well…better in than I thought she would at least. We should go find he-"

Several feet away Nigel let out a guttural exclamation that Tim could only assume to be a Blacktrinian curse of some sort. Looking over to the doctor, he found a clear expression of agitation at whatever had occurred on screen. When he returned his own gaze to the monitor two others were sauntering up to their young maid and the clearly frazzled reporter glaring daggers at her. Handsome identical twins with dark hair, sporting a different streak of color in their locks each. He did not have to hear Starfire's gasp of recognition, nor did he have to ask about them…despite the divergence of their blood in regard to maternity, there was still a familial resemblance between the twins and the sister they came up behind.

"S'cuse me then ma'am?" one interrupted her stuttering with a purr.

The other slid up to stand behind Ryce, her expression all at once very alert and carefully guarded as her brother spoke, "As high an honor t'is-"

"To be interviewed by such a talented and beautiful professional-"

"It HAS been a very long and tryin' day for our li'l sister...we'll jus' be-"

"Takin' her now…make sure she's okay-"

"Aye…we have been worried sick about the silly thing."

Too aggravated to even bother feigning concern, the woman gave a stiff nod as she turned once more back to the camera, smile even more forced than before, "And there you have it…a day that could have ended in tragedy, instead ending within the warm and caring embrace of family."

She carried on for a few moments more after this, perhaps trying to regain some sort of dignified footing after being made a fool by a teenaged girl. But the Titans attention was not on her. It was on the twins who were escorting their tense sister off camera and towards the mall exit. For all intensive purposes, one might simply assume her tension to stem from the ordeal she just had been through…having nothing to do with the two seemingly young men escorting her. Seconds before the broadcast cut away, the trio had made it to the exit, blurred figures unfocused on the camera's horizon.

But not so blurred than they could not see the one clearly shove Ryce through that door.

* * *

The dumpster gonged loudly as her form collided into it, followed by a clattering crash as its lid came slamming down from the force of it. Dimly, she was aware of a frightened yowl ripping up from behind, a spooked trash-cat fleeing for its life from its hiding place. Without a grating growl she braced her fall against the metal side and pushed her self off of it upon impact. One fist raised to protect her face and the other arcing up into a swing she threw her body into a punch aimed for Marid's all too smug face.

They were quicker…and there were two of them. A strong hand grappled around her face and shoved her back into the dumpster, pain rushing up her lower back when a piece of jutting metal stabbed its blunt edge into her flesh

"Now, now, now…why don't we jus' make this simple, Ali...no need to carry on," Marid chuckled, his arm gliding up beside her head, palm rested flat against the dumpster. Shaitan quickly slithered up along the other side of her, mimicking his twin's stance and lean effectively boxing her in on both sides.

"Indeed! We jus' want to talk, baby sister," Shaitan grinned, raising up his free hand to caress the side of her face gently as he leaned in head tilted just so…his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "Jus' a wee chat."

"Geroff of me!" she snapped in response, trying to hide the uncomfortable fear in her voice with her anger as she tried to push past both of her brothers.

The grip on her wrist was iron clad and unyielding. She knew the touch without even a glance back…the way he wrenched her arm up towards the center of her back merely made her more certain. The left wrist was a favored spot of Shaitan.

"Those holier-than-thou attitudes these meat-bags have instilled in your empty li'l head? Aye…I'd let them go," Shaitan murmured in that husky whisper – now, promising a whole new litany of dark and far more violent deeds – right next to her ear, "This wouldn't be the first time I had to break your arm for bein' a snot, Ali…does the bone have to piece the skin this time too?"

"Shaitan," Marid's voice cut through his threats in apparent boredom, "That s'enough."

Though the grip on her wrist did not loosen by any means, the jerking motion that was sending nauseous waves of pain up her arm ceased as Marid strolled his way around her. Standing in front of his sister once more, the incubi looked down at her calmly, poison green eyes gazing her up and down piercingly, his eyes a lit with a battened down greed for what lay beneath her clothes. They were not going on about their typical song and dance she could see, there was something far more to this visit than their inappropriate harassment and pawing.

"…mind tellin' me what happened in there, Ali?" Marid asked quietly.

"What…happened in wher-AH!" Ryce growled lowly, before Shaitan hitched her arm further up her back, cutting her insolence off with a pain yelp.

Marid's eyes narrowed as bent down a way so as to meet Ryce's eyes, "Do not play dumb with us-"

"Or my hand might just happen to…slip," his twin echoed behind her chuckling as he raised said hand a fraction of an inch more.

Skewering her eyes shut against the pain Ryce released the hold her teeth had taken on her tongue, "M'…..M'all-OW-ed…t-to defend myself…and you **know **it."

"Hmmm…Aye. Aye, you are," Shaitan breathed into her ear, sending a shudder of revulsion down her spine in spite of the pain it caused, "But…that's not what we mean and you _**know**_ it."

Marid nodded, watching as Ryce's mismatched eyes cracked open to glare up at him, "There's been whispers goin' on at home. They started out pretty quiet, but I think after today? Well, after today they won't be whispers."

"They say you are turnin' your back on us, Alaryce…throwing in your lot with these insects," Shaitan growled.

Marid nodded, straightening up once more as a cold non-smile quirked up his lips, "We think these are silly rumors. After all, you know the price of doin' something so stupid as breakin' father's rules. Still, we thought you'd get a real _laugh_ out of how silly these rumors that you are choosin' a side in this debacle."

"Yes! A right riot we thought…don't you think s'funny, Ali?" Shaitan hissed as his arm twitched up once more, something popping in her shoulder, "Well? C'mon sister, LAUGH!"

A howl ripped up and out of Ryce echoing into the alleyway, perhaps serving as the 'laugh' her brother seemed to so dearly want to hear from her. Through the haze of pain and the graying edges of her vision, she could hear the scrapping of Marid's feet as he approached, coming closer than ever. Then, her field of vision was overtaken by his face. Those leering, toxic eyes locked into hers once more, dancing with warning and unmentionable acts. Even with him so close, she could see the edges of his mouth tick up into a small grin, "All the fightin'…all the learnin'…all the trainin'. Above all else, all the _**thinkin'**_. So, I repeat, Ali...What. Happened. In. There."

There had been another dull, painful popping in her shoulder when she leaned back into Shaitan for leverage, but it was all but drowned out by the crack of Marid's nose when the crown of her head slammed into it. A smile of her own wormed up through the pain when the incubi let out of cry, blood pouring from the broken feature due to her impromptu answer of head butting. The look on his face almost made the pain worth it.

And then Shaitan had released her. Not out of any kindness, not even out of concern for the only being in this world besides himself that he loved. No, it was because of the dumpster ripping into her back once more. It was because of the way her feet dangled a foot of so off the ground, uselessly clanging and drumming against the dented but still too smooth metal surface, seeking vainly for some sort of purchase. Most of all it was because of the clawed hands fixed tightly around her neck, holding her up against the receptacle and slowly squeezing her air way shut.

"You _**bitch**_," Marid snarled and spit into her face, looking less and less handsome as his rage escalated, dragging her towards him before slamming her back into the dumpster for every word, "I'm. Going. To. Tear. You. _**APART**_!"

"Marid."

For a moment, it did not seem like the enraged demi-demon would be responding to his twin. But only for a moment, before a calm, careful hand enclosed around his wrist with a gentle touch. Straightening up and coming back down from his fury, Marid was finally aware of the cold, sharp metal resting coolly against the flesh of his neck. A bead of blood – black and tar like, before a gust of wind blew it away as dust like the semi solid liquid leaking from his nose– welled up from under the skin at the point and he could not help but allow a small smile.

"Put her down," came a familiar snarl.

Carefully, with the same gentle care Shaitan had just shown him, he placed the reddening teenager back onto her own two feet. Color drained from her face when he released his hold, before flooding back in sickly unpleasant patches, air finally rushing back into her deprived and tired lungs. Ryce did not take more than a moment's rest before she pushed past both men roughly, disappearing from both their sight as they continued to face the garbage in the alley. Simultaneously, they gave an almost lazy about face, looking behind them at the group gathered there, weapons all clearly at the ready. More importantly, Marid looked at the sharp edge of the glaive blade resting millimeters from the expanse of his face.

"Leave," Nigel growled.

Both twins' brows cocked up in amusement at this.

Shaitan began, "Pardon us, my-"

And once more Marid's voice slid out over his, "-dear Blacktrian, but you-"

"-see? This is a family-"

"-matter and really should-"

They were finishing together, but it was Shaitan's hand that was reaching back out to grab his sister, "-be handled by fami-"

It was only thanks to his brother's quick movements in pulling him back that Shaitan's arm from the elbow down still remained attached to his person. In the spot it once occupied, all that was left was the slicing Shimmer and Gauntlet blades still embedded in the ground, the pavement hissing the star bolt and sonic blast had left even after they had faded, and the arm snapping strike of a staff that Robin still held at the ready. A black glowing shield faded from around their teenaged sister, now staring back at them with a haughty and smug little grin.

"Maybe," she said coldly, baking away further into the protective throng of her friends, "Jus' maybe s'time for those rumors to stop bein' so silly. Maybe I have made a _**choice**__._"

A grating rumble of a growl vibrated through Shaitan's chest as he took a step towards her once again. And once again it was a rapidly cooling and calming Marid who made to stop him with a gentle, loving touch to his brother's shoulder. Green eyes darted back to Marid to find him staring upwards and towards the mall, seemingly no longer interested in the oddly dressed group of young men and women before them. Shaitan's eyes followed that gaze, and then he suddenly fell back, a smirk identical to the one Marid sported forming on his face. It was Robin who was following their gaze as well, to the roof of the mall behind them. It did not take more than a fraction of a second to see the lone, hulking figure standing stiffly above them, watching them.

Xavius…The Marine, glowered stormily down at the twins who threatened his charge, and judging by their inching back…it was an effective deterrent.

"C'mon then, li'l brother," Marid purred coming up to the side of Shaitan with an affectionate nuzzle, "We're done here…leave the baby to her toys."

"I don't thi-," Cyborg started, his canon once again raising and taking aim on the duo. In an instant – and with a two fingered salute from Shaitan – the twins seemed to suddenly drop, their forms falling straight down into a pile of the queer looking black dust Marid's blood had wafted away as, "…-nk so. Great…so much for going home, then. "

"D…on't…worry 'bout them…ow," Ryce's voice chimed in with a wince as Nigel, having already stowed his weapon, checked her bruised and battered throat, "X will handle the – ow – "Flowers in the At – ouch means 'stop doin' that,' Nigel – tic" Boys."

The doctor ignored her off hand commentary and protests, finishing up his examination of the wound, "Well, judging by how much you are still talking, it is safe to say he did not damage your larynx…and the swelling and bruising does not look too severe. Ryce, what in world were you thinking?"

"Why do people keep askin' me that?" she pondered aloud, already making her way back inside. The others followed…some badgering her with more questions, others commenting, others criticizing.

"You over balanced your kick…that's why you fell…just like the other forty-seven times I told you not to over balance, " Savior pointed out sternly, earning himself a roll of her mismatched eyes.

"Why thank you, Noel, what everyone needs t'hear after getting shot and disarming two full grown men…everything I did wron-"

"You were shot?" Noel's – as well as the rest of the team's – eyes widened as he reeled around looking the smaller girl over. Now, that she had finally mentioned it, he noticed the bloody stain on her upper arm, the line of flesh sliced carefully out of it. Nigel once more let out that same guttural sounding word from earlier and set to looking at the wound Ryce had somehow managed to deem not worth mentioning.

"S'a graze! Everyone needs to get their skivvies out of knotty bunches," she sighed, before looking up at Noel with a smug little grin, "You are actually concerned!"

"You're an idiot," he answered.

"Awww…underneath all those issues and all your cantankerous douchery you actually car-OW!"

"Savior, please wait until I don't have my sharp metal fingers in an open wound to slap her upside the head, thank you," Scalpel said pleasantly as he looked at the grazing wound critically, before straightening back up once more, "We need to clean that out when we get home."

"Okaaaaaay," Ryce was beginning to whine, looking none-too-happy with the constant delays as they made their way through the untouched sections of the mall. All she wanted was to get in the T-Car. At home awaited hot showers and warm toasty beds and there was little doubt she had earned the rest of the afternoon off. After all it all, it was not every day she put this kind of work in…in fact this was the most tired and overexerted she had felt since the incident with Nears-

A well known – and for many of the Titans, very uncomfortable – fact was that Ryce's concept of personal space and affection were…"different." Possibly, it stemmed from her ill treatment throughout childhood, the neglect and abuse resulting in the outright splurge of physical affection now that she was amongst those where is was at least occasionally welcome and acceptable. Perhaps, it also had to do with her best friend seeming to be a man who thought nothing odd or romantically intimate about sleeping spooned together in the same bed with her. In the end, maybe Ryce was just plain weird.

Whatever the case, Ryce found herself unsure she liked being on the other end of this when she suddenly found herself being hugged tightly out of no where. Eyes wide, she squirmed under the clinging and tight grip of the girl that had just broken through the throngs of people already assessing and cleaning up the damage left behind in Denny's wake. Looking from side to side, she found looks of confusion mirrored back from her friends, no one knowing what to make of this girl. Ryce was all but ready to shove her away.

"Daddy! Daddy tha's her! Daddy, are you listening? Tha's her! Tha's the good monster!" came an excited cry several yards to her left.

She knew the voice long before her two-toned eyes fell upon the man holding hands with his six year old, staring back at her in quiet shock. His face seemed to have just gone completely slack as he regarded the battered teenager his other daughter was embracing shakily. It was a shell-shocked look Ryce had found so horrifying the night she had met him, now filled her with a quiet sort of peace…and maybe even pride. At once, Ryce understood who the younger girl was and returned hug tightly.

"Hi, Becky."

* * *

**Author notes: ...seriously this is only half the original chapter…again. Look for an update in the next few weeks. For real this time**


	14. Chapter 14

_There's a fire starting in my heart,  
Reaching a fever pitch  
and it's bring me out the dark,  
Finally, I can see you crystal clear,  
Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your sheet bare ~ __**Adele **__"Rolling in the Deep"_

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* * *

_

_The brush of the bow against it strings released soft, gentle sighs of music into the air of the small office. Up…down…tilt…drop…each shift of his wrist sent up a peel of sound into the air where they hung almost like audile smoke rings. It was a sound heard by few…praised and dreaded through out time through mythos and legend. He was __not__ and never had been a reaper by any means. Once upon a time, long ago, his brother had called him an over glorified cruise director. He had laughed at him…not quite sure if he had been that far off the mark._

_The violin's music came to an abrupt pause, a heavily pregnant silence falling over the room. Blue eyes that had begun to yellow in their corneas glanced down and across his desk to its edge. He had barely enough time to see the blue eyes that had been watching him widen, before they ducked down out of view, taking with them the upper half of a tiny blond head and the black satin and pearl ornament that was its décor._

_Chuckling, the archangel peered up and over the edge to find the rest of the child that those __features__ were attached to. His __four-year-old__ daughter blinked up at him, one thumb hooked into her mouth, suckling on it quietly. He frowned a bit at that…getting her to stop was proving impossible. _

"_Do you need something, Princess Ali?" he asked quietly. _

_She shook her head from side to side, but her eyes flickered to the violin still in his hand. With a soft smile he crooked a finger motioning her towards him. Alaryce hopped up to her feet and scuttled around the desk, standing beside his chair in less than a __heartbeat__. Still smiling, he pushed away from the desk a bit to allow for room as he used his free hand to lift the tiny child up into his lap. It was amusing to see…she had never expressed __an__ interest in the instrument before._

_She settled into his lap quietly, looking confused when her father settled the large fiddle on her shoulder and gently guided her chin to rest upon it. And then her thumb was plucked from her mouth – much to her chagrin – the hand being swallowed in his much larger one. She felt the bow being slipped into her fingers, her father's hand keeping it steady in hers due to its awkward size. All the while, she obediently followed his direction, blinking in silent curiosity and confusion. _

"_You ready?" he asked._

"_Yes, Daddy," she said._

_His hand moved __hers,__ and the bow slid across the strings. Eyes widening, she __watched their clasped hands__ in brushing the bow against the violin, listening as slowly the song he was playing filled the room once more._

_Up…down…tilt…drop…_

"_M'doin' it, Daddy!" she shrieked in delight._

_Azrael smiled softly…something sharp and dark and low bleeding unknowingly from his eyes. Something that perhaps he never even realized was there…or sadder __yet,__ something he did not realize to be so black._

"_Yes, you are."_

_Up…down…tilt…drop…_

"_I love you, Ali…"_

_

* * *

_

Exactly one week had passed since the incidents at the mall. Exactly one week, during which Tim Drake gave serious and long thought to a question that two months ago he would have deemed ludicrous. In the end, he could not say what exactly had finalized the decision to call his team together so as to voice the thought in question. Maybe it was because he finally was able to see what awaited her at home when this ordeal was over…maybe it was a sense of camaraderie after seeing her step into the line of fire to protect those hostages and seeing Becky Stathis' tearful embrace of gratitude…maybe if nothing else, Alaryce Gallagher had this annoying habit of growing on you, despite how annoying she was, like an ambushing barnacle.

"So, anyone wanna fill me in on why we're meeting in the basement storage room and not somewhere…less creepy?" Beast Boy cut through his train of thought, the shifter looking around the myriad of formerly dust gathering boxes.

"I just assumed it was Noel's intervention. So! Who's going to go trick him into thinking there is a box of old, historical paper clips down here used by some obscure southern general who defected to the Martians during the Civil War," Robert said brightly before noticing the dry look the white haired man was giving him from across the room "Oh, there you are. Never mind."

Raven sighed from beside her lover, "Is the author done getting her shots in at people whose interests extend into intelligent realms…as opposed to brain-dead-required, reality singing competitions?"

Her hand lashed out and grabbed the stick end of the murloc's spear before it connected with her calf and she flung it into a pile of boxes, "Please continue, Tim."

Robin opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by Gauntlet who was staring at the boxes with a mixture of disgust and incredulity, "…What IS that thing!"

"Rob, stop interrupting," Terra grumbled in annoyance, none of his teammates outside of himself looking even remotely concerned by the creature slinking out of the box into an open compartment in the wall. Robin shook his head once again attempting to begin speaking, only to be interrupted a second time.

"Seriously, is no one else _bothered_ by that thing?" Gauntlet asked.

"Rob…" Raven tried to cut through his encroaching rant.

"No one is even fazed by a mutant amphibian with razor sharp teeth that is _wielding a weapon _and appears EVERY time we mention _her_! What happened to the wall? Plaster raining down on us is fine, so long as whatever that thing goes away," he whimpered, lifting her legs up onto the box he was sitting on and away from the floor.

"His name is Lars," Starfire supplied kindly as if that cleared up the matter completely, before she turned back to her own boyfriend, "Now that we have explained to friend Robert…you wished to speak with u-"

"Lars? How does that explain anything!"

"Rob, one more outburst and I am going to sedate you," Nigel grumbled in annoyance.

Threats of unconsciousness now uttered, the youngest Titan finally stifled his complaints and sat atop a box, his eyes darting to the wall every so often incase the compartment should open once more. Robin gave him a few seconds: Waited and then made to start, only to wait and glance again to ensure he would not be further interrupted. When he was satisfied that it was safe to continue he looked around at his teammates and began.

"I've been…considering something for the past week or so. It's not something to be taken lightly and it is not a decision I can make unilaterally without all of your say in it."

"Does this have anything to do with you asking me to request that Ryce beat every rug in the Tower up on the roof?" Raven asked.

With a glance around to see their tentative expressions, Tim nodded, "Yes. We voted on allowing her temporary lodging…and today I want to take another on extending her a place to stay on a more…permanent basis."

"In other words an indefinite stay in the meta and non-human "halfway house"?" Noel asked eyes narrowing in regarded to this new information. Tim could not help but sigh at his expression. He had been hoping that being one of the people to vote without prompting for a temporary stay, that Noel would not take much convincing. Furthermore, he was hoping the…well….almost "friendship" or at least decrease in annoyance would have won Noel over. It appeared however, the former Boy Wonder was completely off the mark.

Noel finally nodded, "It's about time…thought you were being a bit of a heartless ass when you didn't bring this up a week ago."

Tim was not sure he should have been this happy over being called an ass. Furthermore, that it was NOEL COLLINS calling him so. He was not given time to ponder this though as one by one the others were talking over each other each expressing relief and affirmation.

"Glorious!"

"Well, she does make a passable cup of tea."

"Mmm…an indefinite supply of GOOD Waffles," Cyborg sighed happily as Robert nodded next to him.

"Yea and it's always fun to watch Rob's false hope at actually having on-screen, non-imaginary love interest," Terra chimed in.

"...I seriously hate you guys," Gauntlet said his previous grin becoming suddenly forced.

"Do we really have to vote this out, Tim," Nigel finally interrupted holding out his hand to give them all pause, "It seems to be a bit pointless."

Looking around, Tim waited to see if anyone had anything to say to negate the Blacktrinian's observations. Nothing other than the content silent smiles of his team answered. Scalpel took note of this as well and nodded, "Should we invite her to come out of that box over there and join us then?"

Robin turned to the box in question, eyes widening in a manner not unlike they had last time he found himself in a similar situation. Sure enough, the box shifted and stirred slightly, the flaps opening with careful deliberation to reveal the top portion of their maid's face and head. Eye crinkling with a smile he could not yet see, Ryce was practically vibrating in her hiding place.

"…this was all MY idea," she said echoing her words from the months before.

"Well considering Adam is in a completely parallel world, we imagine it would be," Raven pointed out to her dryly, but not without the smallest of smiles.

"Being as you are evidently incapable of listening, is it safe to say you heard everything I just said, Ryce?" Tim sight shaking his head as the rest of the younger girl came into view, one skinny leg after the other swing over the side of the box as she slid out. A Cheshire cat grin was curling up her mouth so tightly, one would almost worry it was threatening to split her face. Obviously, now distrusting her own voice, Ryce nodded her head eagerly.

"Do you have an answer to our invitation? Would you like to sta-oof!" Robin's thought was cut off by a death-grip hug that reminded him painfully of his overenthusiastic girlfriend.

"Thank you thank you !" Ryce was babbling out happily into her crushing hug. As soon as it began however, he was released as the hyperactively joyous teenager made her way from Titan to Titan hugging them tightly and rambling her thanks, a glimmer of that excitable hero-worship back in her face.

"No," Noel said in warning when she came to him. He was properly ignored as she grappled onto him as well, "Get. Off."

"No!"

"I am not above punching you in the head."

"Yes, you are," Raven interrupted, effectively taking the wind right out of her lover's sails.

Noel frowned, visibly deflating, "Why is it none of the authors ever cut me any sla-OW GOD DAMN IT!"

"Murglglgl!" Lars garbled as he ran past shaking his spear and making Gauntlet let out a shriek and flee the basement entirely.

* * *

Outside the Tower, two forms, more shadow than flesh, stood close, melding into one basic shape. Two halves of a whole regarded the Tower…regarded each other. Their poison eyes sparkled darkly before the wind carried their shadow away in a heave of dust.

Bishops to E7.

* * *

Robert Candide…was on a mission. He knew what he was doing was so utterly wrong. He knew what risks he was taking by coming here and doing this. But he had to. It was no longer a desire, but a compulsion…a _need_ too dark and too twisted to share with the men and women who made up his team…his friends…his family. If they were to find out? Nothing would ever be the same again and he KNEW that. And yet he still risked it. He needed his fix, however much he hated himself for it.

A glance over his shoulder found no one standing nearby…behind him, before him, to either side of him. Slowly, with the air of a man treading on hallowed – or perhaps even _cursed_ – ground he made his way. He trekked through the darkened room, checking everywhere for any sign of life that could bear witness to what he was about to do. Adrenaline and shame pumped through him with the heavy thuds of his heart, as he made his once over of the room into a twice over. What would they think of him if they knew? What would she?

He was alone.

He made his way to the center of the room.

He lifted a shaking hand.

God help him, he clicked the power button.

…The television flared to life.

"_So giggle at the ghosty,  
Guffaw at the grossly,  
Crack up at the creepy…"_

A sigh lifted up from the grown man as a…really PINK pony frolicked across the television. He took a seat on the ground and smiled.

"What the HELL are you watchin'?"

"AH!" Gauntlet yelled rocketing to his feet as he shielded the television screen in his room.

Apparently, panicked paranoia, while good at ensuring you checked in every closet, out every window, and under every piece of furniture in a room, it let one forget to check the most simple of places. Like the doorway. Namely, like the doorway Ryce was standing in and staring at him blankly from.

"WHAT? What is it?" followed the new, alarmed voice of Cyborg as Rob's scream made him falter on his walk by the room. The doorway further filled with his much larger form as he looked in to find Rob trying vainly to block the screen from view. The same blank look made its way across his face as well. Fingers jabbing blindly at his remote, all Rob managed to do was making the volume louder.

This appeared to catch Noel's attention as he walked down the adjacent hall, looking for the younger blond that was standing in the door besides Cyborg as they both looked into Robert's room for some reason. He had a package of some sort under his arm

as he came up beside her, "Hey, Ryce, I've been..."

The man trailed off, taking in the scene before him, most notably Rob's expression and the poorly blocked television. A million thoughts seemed to go through his mind. "...okay."

And then he was looking back at Ryce, continuing as if simply blocking out whatever was occurring in the room in front of them. He gestured to the box under his arm, "…looking for you. Do you have a minute?"

"…Right…yes…well…when you're done gettin' in touch with your inner six year-old-girl, would you mind signing those commercial and endorsement contracts I mentioned so I can mail them in, Rob? Thanks," Ryce said edging out of the room with Noel following.

For several seconds, there was nothing in the world that could break the dead silence…besides the giggling of a hot pink pony on the TV that is.

"Do you hear that? Over the sound of the pretty little pony show that is…it's the sound of the chances of any girl ever sleeping with you crashing and burning in a fiery ball of epic fail," Cyborg nodded solemnly and waved his hand in front of himself and Robert as if to lay it out carefully before him. Robert shot him a dirty look and opened his mouth to retort when the show blared out.

"…the unicorn Twilight Sparkle shall take on a new mission for Equestria. She must continue to study the magic of friendship!"

Victor found himself doubled over with laughter as Rob's face flared red and he began to sputter in coherently.

"It a good show! You know what? I would have THOUGHT I'd be spared mocking from my supposed friends. My bronies are plenty supportiv- " and then Rob paused…and then sighed…realizing what he had just said out loud.

It was several minutes before Cyborg had managed to reign in his hysterics enough to realize that he had pulled something. It took several more for him to stop laughing long enough to care. Long before he managed to stand back up off the hallways floor, Gauntlet had slammed the door on him, mortified and simultaneously possessing a bizarre sense of victory.

Robert was not given much time to lament his embarrassment and denials and/or proud proclamations of pony watching as the Tower alarm blared out. Both men immediately were all business, ignoring the whined out complaints coming from Beast Boy as they both entered the living area with a clear lack of enthusiasm or urgency.

"Aw, come ON. I'm starving, are you serious?"

"Gar, you chose to sleep in and miss breakfast, now don't complain," Robin ordered, knowing full well his younger team mate – in a display of the utmost maturity – was mimicking and mocking him behind his back.

It was cut shot however when a warm, breakfast – and he noted thankfully, vegan – burrito was unceremoniously shove into his gaping mouth, nearly choking the green shifter. Ryce shook her head, continuing past him dusting a hand off on her pants leg, "And now you're not starvin', presto chango…now go. The lot of you are cuttin' in on my 'make hash brownies and watch cartoons' time."

Tim paused and stared at the young woman as Garfield marched past happily noshing on his portable breakfast. Ryce stared back at him before rolling her eyes and shaking her head, "S'a bloody JOKE, Tim."

"…guess who's doing a random drug test when we get back."

"Guess what's not 'random' if you tell me s'happenin' beforehand."

"Alaryce…"

"Ooo…my full name…now I know you mean business. Riddle me this though? How many of Jump's citizen are burnin' alive, being devoured and/or enslaved by some badly-themed villain, while you idle your time away yellin' at li'l ol' me 'bout a harmless joke? Besides, if you're really worried about drugs in the Tower, maybe you should be screenin' Pinkie-Pie's number one fan over there," she asked nonchalantly, nodding her head at Gauntlet whose face flared red again.

Tim glanced over his shoulder at Robert, "What is she talking abo-"

"NOTHING. She saw nothing she knows nothing stop asking me questions."

Robin decided not to question this reaction as he walked into the elevator, making sure to give the mortified-looking younger blond a wide berth. With a ding, the doors shut, finally allowing her to release the pent up giggling that had threatened to burst out. Shaking her head, she turned away from the living room and made her way into the kitchen, her mind on a cup of coffee. She went through the motions of making a fresh pot, an activity most would complete with sort of bored tedium. The half angel, however, practically floated as she did so. She'd been like this in the days that had followed her official welcome into her new "home."

The smell of gurgling coffee curled up into her sharp sense of smell, making her toes curl pleasurably. Home. She had never quite loved the sound of that word and all it meant as much as she did now. It had never meant this contented warmth. It had never truly made her feel so safe.

…and with a sudden tense of her form? It did not now either.

She felt the eyes on her long before she was truly consciously aware of them. Hairs along her neck standing she made to calmly place her cup back on top of the kitchen counter. Her eyes had dilated and narrowed into strips of black in all that blue. A steady hand reached out to grab the pot filled with hot, bitter liquid. Just as her fingers delicately tightened on the handle, her ankles and back tensed, body reeling on her heels and swinging the glass pot around behind her.

A howl ripped through the kitchen, glass shattering and boiling hot coffee splattering against the side of Shaitan's face and her left hand. She did not allow the pain to reach her though, adrenaline keeping it at bay and the incubi stumbled back shrieking in pain. Her feet were already moving, pounding into the fallen glass without so much of a wince or hesitation. She did not make it far before another was on her, arms wrapping around her body in a crushing mockery of an embrace. It was Marid's voice shouting into her ear.

"Alaryce, calm down!"

"I should skin you alive," Shaitan hissed as he straightened, his face a mess of bloody burns, already flaking away in ash to reveal fresh skin beneath.

Ryce snarled and struggled, fangs sharpening, body twisting into something clawed and sharp even as the incubi holding her tightened his grip and lifted her up off the floor, "Shaitan, grab her legs!"

The twin moved forward to comply only to have one of those leg flash out and bury a heel into his chin with a crack. Yet another howl ripped up and it was music to Ryce's ears. All she had to do was break free of Marid, all she had to do was twist out of this hold and get away. This was a game of keep away…and it was one that she would win. Her left eye began to glow…

Sizzle. That had been her goal. A little crispy for the Twins. But her hold on the shade was instantly ripped from her. Her eyes rounded and the claws of her fingers receded into the harmless chipping manicure she knew. The confusion was intensified when Shaitan was launched out of her vision and a large hand – about the size of a dinner plate she would say and composed almost entirely of claw – grappled unto the entire side of her face. The next instant the world exploded in a flash-bang of light and color, warmth pumping from the side of her head.

Vaguely, she could hear sounds – voices? – over the dull _thump-thump_ of her own heart. The world swam in hazy unclarity, an artist's interpretation of the Tower living room. She was sitting up now, and something was hurting her wrists and ankles. Pulling, she tried to bring them up to her blurred vision, only to find them incapable of following her command. Little by little, the world came back into focus, first by sound, then by sight.

"Thanks for that Yammy," Marid puffed from her right side, the restraint on that wrist tightening painfully.

"We told you she's gotten a bite to her!" She heard Shaitan's complaints from the left, and that wrist sang with the same treatment.

"Watch your tongues, pathetic underlings. That you have the audacity to speak after nearly being bested by the Maggot is nothing short of an insult," a growling, guttural snarl joined their conversation.

"…or you could jus' say 'You're welcome,'" Marid grumbled, giving the restraint one final tight pull.

Ryce could not bury the groan that rang up from her at the feel of it, causing those toxic green eyes to dart up to her face. Even through the blurry haze of her weak vision, she could discern those revolting eyes. Someone tutted and tsked indulgently, her superior hearing informing her that it came from her left, pointing to Shaitan.

"Well look who has decided to wake up and join us! 'Lo there, sleepy head"

"Ali, this could have gone so much more smoothly," Marid sighed as he shifted closer, hands coming up towards her face. She hissed angrily, baring her teeth before it tapered off, pain pulsing sharply in her head. Mind sluggishly trying to catch up with the words hanging in the air around her, she almost missed her eyes suddenly clearing as those reaching hands perched her glasses gently back onto her nose.

The Twins crouched before her both looked ill-humored and tired of this "game." They were not who her eyes were drawn to, though. She had thought they had said "Yammy," but really she had been hoping she had misheard. However, there was no mistaking the abyss like sink holes in that twisted deformed mask that was Y'mael's face. Nor was there any mistake of whose clawed fingers had gripped the whole of her head and smashed it off the kitchen table, especially when his still had a few strands of blond hair tangled into the talons. Catching his little sister's gaze, the man-beast with the spiked back straightened and let out a low, hissing breath through his needle teeth.

Once, when Ryce had been quite small, her father had asked her which of her siblings she found the most frightening. Y'mael, with his misshapen, hairless, and needle-ridden form had been so easy an answer then, before she knew. Knew that far uglier and more frightening things could live beneath the skin. But now looking up at him in her confused and concussed state, she could understand once again why that name had so easily fallen off of tiny Ali's tongue.

The Twins were talking now and it was cutting through her fog. They were explaining something to her. All she managed to catch was that struggle was pointless and if anything dangerous with how tightly she was tied to this chair…that her powers had been cut courtesy of Big Brother 'Yammy,' so perhaps it was just best she sit still and listen to whatever it was that the Twins had to say.

"We didn't want to do this, Al," Marid sighed shaking his head, "You should have jus' listened to us at the mall."

"We were trying to _WARN_ you," Shaitan said from somewhere behind her.

"Would…would you two like…t'know where you can stick your warnin's?" she growled, wincing in pain and struggling weakly against her bonds.

With a bored sigh Marid shook his head, "M'sure it's charming and filled with colorful vernacular. But right now?"

Shaitan popped back into her field of vision his hands enclosed on the Orb he had just stolen from her room, "Right now we have to show you the truth, Baby Sister."

"You…are so gung-ho on bein' like them. We get it, Ali. Life's kicked you in the face more than you'd care to imagine and it bothers you more than you care to admit," Marid said dragging the Orb from his twin's hand and up into the air. It hovered at Ryce's eye level lazily.

"But what we don't get, is why you think these Insects will be any better?" Shaitan asked, "Ali, for Christ's sake, out of all of us YOU should know best what humanity is made of."

"Think about what you are throwing your life away for."

Ryce lifted her head and glared, no longer bothering to struggle against the restraints. Her eyes flickered in a silent defiance that made both the older men sigh and shake their heads.

"Do you really trust them then?" Marid asked, "Enough to forfeit your life?"

"They would do the same for me," she hissed back, "They are above your lies. And they show EVERYTHIN' tha's good in this world."

"…you think so?" Shaitan chuckled blackly.

They moved as one, with choreographed and elegant movements, flipping and turning the rings. The Orb's murky depths began to swirl with color and shadow, and then suddenly seemed to seize. Frozen for one moment in place from their constant shift. Ryce had never seen them do that before, she did not even know that the Twins KNEW how to use it as dexterously as they were. All at once the colors began to bleed into one another once more, as shapes began to form beneath them…voices drifting up from the hazy depths of it.

"It's time you saw the truth, Ali," Shaitan sighed.

"We didn't want it to be this way…" Marid joined in his lament.

"But you gave us no choice. You need to see what's underneath your hero's mask…"

"We're going to show you the truth. Show you what kind of men and women they really are. 'Specially your new 'mentor'."

"We're sorry if it hurts," they concluded…and then the forms of her friends and "family" came into view on that screen. She had to wonder if the Twins – perhaps for the first time in her life – were not lying in their apologies. She did not understand, eyes flicking to the time stamped date…

October 31, 2008.

She did not understand.

…then why was she so afraid?

"_Hello Titans. I want to play a game."_

_

* * *

_

When Ryce was eight…her daddy sat her down.

"This is your Orb," he told her, "You keep this safe."

"What is it called," she had asked, fingers caressing its smooth, silver rings with delicate grace.

"Jus' an Orb. It has no name."

But she had to keep it safe. For the first few weeks, keeping it safe was her only task. Then, as soon as he was sure his little girl would not be losing or breaking the ancient piece any time soon, he began to show her how to use it. Bit by bit…she learned how to turn those silvery rings and how to see into worlds of fantastic lights and colors and people.

When she was ten…those worlds began to grow dark. On the day a young runaway was showered in chemicals and paints, the archangel showed his daughter the warzone of human death. By now…she had known full well what it meant to die. Long ago she saw how a majority of mankind spent their last moments…most did not die such fantastic and twisted deaths. But when she turned ten that changed too. Much of the magic was bled from the Orb from then on. Death and carnage soaked its view in gore-splattered hazes.

At the age of ten, Alaryce – who would one day allow a funny boy with stripy hair to rename her – had begun to see what death truly meant to many of mankind. The unspeakable acts one man commits against another and the flickering horror in that other's eyes as the world faded around him one final time.

She had seen raped teenagers curled under the guise of bushes in a park…their shallow gasps unheard by passing elderly couples as flecks of grey and white pooled from their shattered and leaking skulls.

She had seen soldiers blown apart and gazing confusedly at a limb several yards away, not understanding why it was wearing their wedding bands or clutching a photo of their pregnant wife.

She had seen the fear in a little boy's eyes as his mother's boyfriend bore down on his hiding spot in the closet…smelled the alcohol on his breath before his hand fell and took away the light.

By the age of ten Ryce had already begun learning how to watch it all and not bat an eye.

…and then she turned (_"Her eyes….oh god, Daddy!") _twelve…and her father had shown her…one final (_"Dun' make me, Daddy!") _sight…he called her Patricia and he called her a lesson…

The Alaryce who sat on the floor watching in choking terror…looked into those eyes with no Orb to distance them when she was sixteen…

…and she felt nothing.

She remembered all of this and more when it came to Orb Watching. She remembered the cool, slick feel of the metal rings under her ten year old fingers. She remembered the warm rush of her bladder releasing when those (_purple screaming eyes he begged begged begged he begged you __it's__ inside Adam now those purple-) _eyes blinked up at her for the first time. Mostly, she remembered the day she realized that all this and more made her a bit of a monster. She would also remember today…every moment from the ache in the small of her back from this chair to the bite of the ropes in her wrists. But most of all…

She remembered the look on Rob's face when he shot Nigel…

…and she began to sob for the first time in years of watching at what came after.

"_Far Better than me."_

_**BLAM!**_

"…do you understand now, Ali?" Marid asked quietly.

"Do you see what they really are under it all?" Shaitan nodded his voice the same gentle tone. She hated them both for it. She began to struggle again, eyes shut against the sight, but ears unable to block out the voices and truths crawling into them from that Halloween night.

"Turn it off!" she shrieked hatefully, "TURN IT OFF, NOW! YOU'RE LYING! FUCKIN' LIARS!"

"You know we're not, Ryce. You've seen it three times, now," Marid sighed, using her chosen name for the first time, "This happened. This is what they are under it all."

"**SHUT UP!" ** She sobbed, arching her back against the chair, eyes cracking open to see the bloody carnage still occurring before her. He was right. The tiny angel knew he was right and that she was wrong, but the louder she screamed the more it seemed her denial of the black reality of it all would hold. There was still a chance to go back now. So long as she kept screaming…so long as she refused this. She could still GO BACK.

The chair began to tilt, listing sharply to the side to crash her onto to the floor. Y'mael's clawed, wicked hands grappled its back before its descent could be seized by gravity and slammed it back onto its four legs. Its captive slammed back to the ground as well, sharp teeth clamping down on her tongue and filling her mouth with blood. The pain of it quelled her screams into whimpered sobs and gasps for air. In her horrified denial, she had not realized just how difficult it was becoming to breathe…her lungs feeling as if they were trapped in as tight a vise as her ankles and wrists. A dull pressure began to build in her head as she attempted to get her breathing under control.

"Ali?" it was Shaitan talking to her through the cloudy pressure and gasps for air.

"I….I…ca…n't…b-b…br-bre-bre…athe," she wheezed.

"Ali, knock it off. That's enough," Marid snapped harshly from behind his brother.

Ryce's face began to darken, blood rushing to where air could not. Struggling weakly, she gasped as the pressure built now into a murmur of voices. No one was discernable. Nothing they said was intelligible. The murmur began to rise, and the air was shut from her lungs.

"Shit!" Marid hissed grappling unto his twin and launching him back away from the choking girl. Something had gone wrong. His hand lashed out looking for the box cutter they had placed to the side to cut away her bonds. Finger tips grasping, he found nothing.

"Shai!" he barked, "We need to cut her out! Where are the damn razors?"

Whatever it was his brother sought to convey to him was lost in a wet crunch and gurgle. With a look of confusion, the incubi turned to look up at Shaitan, to find his twin looking down at his stomach, blinking in owlish confusion. The spiny needle glittered with black tarry blood for only a moment before it began to flake away in black dust. Shaitan gaped at the blade like construct and then turned around to stare at Y'mael's leering grin.

"Y-You…You stupid cunt!" Shaitan garbled before his body exploded in a wave of black filth that rained down unto the spine clutched in Y'mael's claws. Marid did not use words…he had none left in him at the sight of his beloved brother's treatment. With a shrieking roar he abandoned all attempts to free Ryce and launched his form at the hunched demon, seeking only his flesh and blood.

The ease at which Y'mael first caught him and then pulled him in half was laughable. One shoulder went one way, and one leg the other, like an oversized, macabre Christmas cracker filled with black powdered gore. In an instant, Y'mael became the only one left in the room besides his gasping, still trying to scream sister.

"You will not interfere, Alaryce," he hissed, his hand dropping the back-dusted spine to rip from his flesh a dagger anew, "You and father will not stand in the way of _**Her**_ son. D'xias will bring with him Her dark. Nyth-Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young…and the son who comes to cleanse. Fhalma lw'nafh mg'fhtagn. H'grah'n tharanak Shogg ph'Shugg."

Somewhere in the Void, D'xias grinned as he sent a new world spiraling into nothing.

And his servant brother ripped the last of Ryce's shields down.

* * *

"And then – get this – he actually said 'bronies.'"

Beast Boy and Terra began to break into a hysterical fit of laughter as Cyborg related his comedic tale of Gauntlet's humiliation.

"Yea…well…I'm gonna be in a commercial, so neh," Robert replied childishly as the team made their way up towards their Tower.

Nearby, Noel – who, in spite of himself, could not help but be amused that the ribbing the younger blonde was taking – glanced back at Rob.

"So you finally signed the paperwork Ryce gave you?" he asked, earning a questioning look from Gauntlet which he quelled quickly enough, "She asked me to go over the legalese with her since she was relatively sure you would not read it."

"Why does everyone think so little of my intelligence?" Gaunlet grumbled.

"DID you read it?"

"…that is so far away from being the point that it's a different time zone."

"Perhaps if she covered it in ponies you would have read it," Noel said smirking slightly when he caught the dirty look that earned him. The occasional high-spirit banter, Savior continued up the walk, eyes drifting up the expense of the Tower's face. He was hoping their pint-sized maid had gone against her innate nature and actually listened to him for once and not opened the package he had – perhaps foolishly – placed into her hands before they left. Considering its contents though, he was sure he would know the second he stepped inside whether or not she had listened. If he were being honest with himself…he really doubted she had restrained herself from temptation.

Regardless, whether she had opened it or not, he knew one of the first tasks on his list for the day was to explain the use of this "gift." The idea of what she would do without instructions with the objects in the package was frankly a touch horrifying.

"Hey…who is that?" a voice chimed from beside him, bringing Noel out of his train of thought. A quick glance down to see Sophie staring up at the Tower redirected his gaze immediately. It did not take him more than a moment to notice the lone figure standing near their entry way. It took just as short a time for the meta to recognize the Marine's intimidating and straightened frame. The corners of his mouth tugged down in displeasure. It was a funny thing about being kneed in the face and nearly having your head crushed by a hammer…you never seemed to come to like the person on the other end of that hammer.

Still, dislike aside, Noel could not help but be curious at the sight of the large soldier standing unmoving in their doorway. Two sightings of Xavius in a little over a week was a rarity…and it was not a particular rarity that was sitting right with the Titan. Judging by the narrowing of several of his teammates' eyes…it did not sit right with them either.

"Why is X here?" Robert asked head tilting slightly in confusion.

"That's a good question," Cyborg cut in, his expression more alike Noel's in its suspicion.

"Perhaps, we could ask?" Starfire added, her usual cheer dialed back cautiously.

"Oh yes I'm sure that will get a lively response," Terra snarked, rolling her eyes, "Let's ask the mute for-" but catching sight of the dark look Noel was throwing her way she chose to simply allow the sentence to hang awkwardly in the air.

It was Tim who resumed the walk forward first, brow furrowed slightly in worry, "I'm sure everything's fine. Ryce has her COM and if anything was wrong she would have called for u-"

They heard them in the long seconds before they saw them. Shrieks and crashes and thuds, loud enough to permeate the Tower doors. Even Xavius started at the sudden din, reeling about on his heels to stare at the entry way he had stood as if in guard of. They were already moving themselves, the worry beginning to over take even those confused. Those voices – for there was most certainly two – were not their maid's.

Before they could make it a few steps, the doors crashed open revealing first one incubi twin and then the other. They were coated in black tar and dust…their own blood. But more worrying than that was the hysterical and frantic shrieking they were emitting. It was their language, the one they had occasionally heard Ryce slip into from time to time. None needed to actually speak it or understand to hear the panic in their voice, or see it in the way they flailed their arms back and up towards the Tower.

"What's going on here!" Tim barked reaching the stairs.

The Twins did not so much as glance at him as they garbled up at the massive X. Then, in what perhaps was the most troubling thing they had seen yet, Xavius tensed and his slate eyes widened. He did not give the Titans answers, and they no longer asked. Both soldier and Titans rushed into the Tower as one, the Twins scuttling after them in their panic. They were given no acknowledgement even as their voices managed to lower in pitch and their tongues slip back into English.

"Xavius…we…we didn't know!"

"It went wrong! He…he was speakin' as the old ones! He was using _**Her**_ tongue!"

There was fear in them. So much fear. It made Noel's stomach drop to hear as he ripped open the stairwell door. There was no getting through it though, as one of those tarry hands grappled onto his shoulder. Reflexively the white-haired man ripped away, using all of his control and restraint to prevent himself from planting a shimmer fist into Marid's pale, ill-looking face.

"He's blocked the doors and ripped out the-"

"-elevator so you can't go that way," Shaitan swallowed thickly behind his Twin.

Even as they were speaking, a haze of black glow was climbing up the entire group's legs. It swallowed them pulled them into the nothing with a rush of dark and silence. For one vertigo-inducing moment, they felt as if the floor had just dropped out from beneath their feet. There was no way to describe the sensation, almost like a hypnotic jerk meant to wake, as they began the split-second sensation of fall. It was gone as soon as it began, the world and floor returning solid beneath their feet. But none of that mattered or was the focus.

The honor of the focus was granted to the horrified shrieking resonating through the main floor of the Tower. Pain and fear and horror…bound together in one unearthly screaming plea in which no words were being formed. They recognized Ryce's voice. They knew it was from her that this awful begging was emerging.

They were in the living room, and it did not take them long to find the chair in its center, their young maid bound to it. She twisted and writhed in her bonds, eyes skewered shut and leaking trails of red, ears doing the same. The chords of her neck strained and bulged with her struggles and screams, her wrists were rubbed raw from the rope.

The thing that hung over her, was a twisted monstrosity of flesh, barely able to be called man-shaped. A bulging hunched back of pink-grey flesh and blackened spines, misshapen and pulsing liquidly with its movements. It did not turn to them when they arrived, far too enthralled with trailing a black spine ripped from its own back along Ryce's spasming face. Through the blood of her eyes it was nicking at her flesh. Its mask like face of black void eyes and gapping needle maw stretched open into a grin.

It happened too quickly for them. It was too fast for a flick of Shimmer, a whispered spell, or the lunge of a green hyena. One second they were ready to attack this monstrous beast of claw and spine and fang, the next it was up in the air, held aloft by its thick neck by the Marine's crushing hand. Xavius' face has twisted into something terrifying in how human is remained and yet simultaneously was not. In the face of his rage the thing howled. Under his massive grip it writhed, clawed hands releasing the spike to slash uselessly at X's extend arm. The dark sleeves of his uniform shredded easily under those strikes to reveal gleams of bright silver beneath it—armor. The howling demon's cries began to rise up a new, their pitch causing Nigel's knees to nearly buckle out from under him. An ethereal glow was beginning to form over that strangling hold, spreading down the Marine's arm with a hiss as it burned away what remained of his jacket.

Raven was given little time to react to the sudden spike in temperature. No one else seemed to feel it, or at least no one else seemed to be reacting. It was as if a furnace had been turned up at full blast, and she had been unceremoniously thrown into it. A form collided with hers in the oven heat and knocked her to the ground behind a couch. With a grunt of surprise she looked up to see Marid holding her down, Shaitan curled up, back pressed against their couch beside him. The howls ripped up into squeals as that light pulsed somewhere above them. Preparing to shove the demon off, Raven instead gasped as the light exploded in a roar of heat and sound. She was dimly away of Shaitan snarling and ripping his hand up from the floor, cradling it close as white flame licked around the couch's side.

It was over as soon as it began, the light simply blinking out as if swallowed. Marid's hold over her released and he fell back against the couch as well. No attention was paid to the young woman by Marid now, his concern solely for his pained twin. In contrast, Shaitans bright green eyes had now fallen on her.

"Her…shields...all down…she 'hears' an' 'sees'…ev'rythin' that D'xias jus' did. 'Nother world g-gone," Shaitan gasped painfully from beside him, gingerly holding a burnt black hand away from Marid's gentle touch.

Robert's voice cut through her confusion, "Ryce?"

When she sprang up from the cover of the couch, the first thing the demi-demon saw was a burnt ring on their floor…and yet no where else. Xavius hunched over it panting, his jacket burnt to ash to reveal the glittering platinum armor it hid. His fist sizzled and hissed as he clenched and unclenched his spent fingers. The demon thing that he burnt away…left not even ash in its wake.

This was not where her attention should be, she realized quickly enough turning her focus to the girl still sobbing and screaming weakly in chair nearby. Robert was cutting her bonds away with a Gauntlet empowered blade. Even before the ropes were undone, she could see the error of his decision, they were snapping even as she opened her mouth in vain warning:

"Gauntlet, don't!"

There was no time for confusion before Ryce's – now clawing – hands flew up to grip tearing at her own ears. The nails sunk into her flesh and beaded with blood as she fell from the chair, body shaking with screams. Raven dashed forward even as Gauntlet tried to pull a hand away in horror, even as a Shimmer strand ripped out to prevent her other hand from causing any more damage to herself. There were no shields…that was what Shaitan has said. She was hearing everything. An entire world going off in her head. The implications of it might have made the empath nauseous if she was not so focused on repairing the damage.

But even her focus could not quell the horror of seeing the Shimmer snaking up to a bleeding ear.

"NOEL, NO!" she barked, a blackened glowing force knocking him back into the wall. The air was knocked from him by the force, his concentration breaking and the Shimmer retracting not just from Ryce's ear by from the restraint on her hand as well. That wrist, fortunately, found itself gently encased in a yellow restraint, preventing it from finishing its path towards her own eyes.

Wasting no more time, – trying to ignore the increasingly wet and raw screams coming out of Ryce – Raven fell to her knees beside her and rested a hand on either side of the seizing girl's head, one over each temple. A black glow surrounded her face in a halo of dark. The effect was instant, her screams cutting off into trembled whimpers, the tension falling from her body making her slump forward bonelessly. In seconds even the whimpers were gone leaving her silent twitching form to lean uselessly into Robert. He played the part of support post rather well, careful not to do much more than ensure she did not topple to the floor, cautious of offering any other comforts beyond that.

Across from them Xavius straightened back up, his armor gleaming quietly even in the dim light. Composure returned, he turned stiffly to approach the group gathered around his charge. The Twins followed behind him, cringing and cowed like a pair of kicked dogs at his heels. Shaitan still clutched his holy burnt hand close, but gave no sound to express the pain. Marid, however pulled forward towards Xavius's elbow.

"W-we…we didn't know. When we asked for Y'mael's help…we would have never…Xavius. We tried to stop hi-"

The dark look that glared down at him sent the incubi shrinking back to his twin. There was real fear and terror in both their eyes at that look. Without another word both young men dropped again into ash…and with no wind to carry them just sank through the floor and out of view. Once gone, Xavius's stormy visage turned back to look at the demi-demon clutching Ryce's head, explaining her outburst to the man she loved.

"Another world…her brother destroyed another world. That thing with the spines took away her shields," Raven said quietly, erecting as many mental blockades as she could to obstruct the onslaught on Ryce before her eyes darted up to her confused lover, "Plugging into her mind could have killed you, Noel. Shimmer or not…you are not equipped to handle the strain. It would have been a sensory overload that could have blown your brain right out of your ears."

Noel nodded. Really, there was not much else he COULD do in response to that. There was not much any of them could do right now in response to anything, with the team's faces betraying their shock and numbed confusion. No one knew how to react or what to do. How could they when they did not even know **what** had just happened. Barely aware of Xavius' lurking form, Noel pulled away from the wall to walk back towards the shaking girl.

"_..this was all for her…she needs to fix it…"_

It was barely a whisper in the confusion and chaos. There was no reason really he should have heard it above his team's queries to and about Ryce. Yet, he DID hear it all the same. There was something about that whisper and the sound of it that pulled at him. Noel's eyes fell away from the group moving towards the trio on the floor. The Orb was sitting a few feet away, knocked to the ground during the Marine's lunge to continue its show from there. Some of the sound was being garbled, he wondered if the fall to the floor had tampered with the connection. Stepping closer, he tried to hear what that voice that pulled him was saying now.

"_Please…I'll die…anything…just wake up…wake up…"_

The begging…the pleading…the trembling and utter desperation in the man's voice. Noel reached down to pick up the Orb and look into it.

"_Should have left it to them…oh God what have I done….I'm so sorry…I'm…I'm"_

It surprised him more than hurt. Not that the spines in his hand were painless. Hissing, he ripped his grasping hand back and stumbled, gaze jerking back to see the girl crouched low on the floor. Mismatched eyes blinked up, their irises tiny, angry slits. But it was not just anger he saw in Ryce's eyes…there was something more. Was she…?

"DUDE!" Beast Boy yelled jumping away from the group. He was not alone now that they saw where those elusive spines were coming from.

"Holy…shit…" Robert swallowed, trying to quell his urge to rip away from supporting his younger friend. The tail had NOT been there a moment ago, that he was sure of. Yet there it writhed behind her, dark and mottled…it seemed snake like how it spiraled and looped about carefully through the air. Already several new spines were growing back into to replace those lost.

If Gauntlet had been wary of displaying dismay at her new appendage…if he had been worried over releasing her…she did not seem too care. She ripped away from his touch tail slashing tensely through the air, spines snapping straight up and then flattening. All the while her eyes never left Noel. A single bloodstained hand came out from beneath her crouched form, summoning the Orb to fly straight into her waiting fingers. Once there, the artifact first grew dark and then shrank. Hugging the shrunken marble close…Noel saw what it was in her eyes.

She was afraid of him.

"Get 'way fr'm me," she choked out. It was not directed just at him…but at the entire team. Her eyes flicked nervously, rolling in her head from side to side as if trying to see them all at once. It was as if she thought that she was somehow being back into a corner even as they respected her wishes and kept their distance.

"Ryce?" Starfire tried gently, "Friend, please. You are bleeding. Allow us to help you."

She shook her head violently as she scrambled first back and then shakily unto her own two feet. The tail had faded from sight as if it had never been, once more just leaving them with their battered and all-too-rattled maid. Whatever had just happened in their absence had left her muddled…her eyes did not (_could not?)_ focus on anything, not even them. Nigel tried to step towards her, wincing at the low growl building in her throat in response.

"Ryce…what is wrong? You have to tell us so we can help y-"

"I don't want your help!"

Raven came up beside Nigel, noting how her presence seemed to cause that low growl to hitch higher for a moment before it settled back into its soft undertone. Careful not to move any closer, she lifted her hands up into a placating, palms-out gesture.

"Ryce. You need to listen to me. Your shields were down…D'xias destroyed a world and it's left you a bit shaken. That is all."

"M'not stupid, demon. Dun want wha' your sellin'…Lyin' two-faced bitch," Ryce garbled out.

"Hey!" Noel barked, eyes widening in surprise before narrowing. He took another step forward mouth dropping open, the spines in his hand all but forgotten. Whatever, he had been about to say was cut off as Raven raised her hand to stifle him. It was with great restraint and effort that he managed to snap his jaw shut and not lace into his occasional student.

"Ryce, what is going on," she asked as calmly as she could manage.

"I saw…I SAW. You kept it. You **keep** it" she screamed, eyes wild and wounded, "What are you goin' to do next time?"

Noel did not care if Raven wanted him to be quiet. Ryce was spiraling off and head very quickly towards vicious hysterics, "You better cool it down, Ryce or-"

Head jerking towards him, her lips pulled back into a sickly grin as she began to shake. Voice quivering she asked, "Or what, Noel? Gonna shoot me?"

He…had no answer for such a random question. Had no understanding of what she was going on about in this addled state. He asked her what she was talking about, asked her to calm down. Told her and asked her things that she did not give answers or even responses to. Because it was not his face her focus had strayed to. Her eyes switched, staring at the subtly paler and tensing Raven beside him.

Raven tried to speak, her voice quiet and lost under Noel's questions…tried to sputter out something – anything – in light was what the younger girl had just said, "Ryce-"

"No…"

"You have to let me-"

"No."

Raven could see it in her eyes. Could see that nothing she said or did was going to make Ryce listen. Not when she was in such a state of unraveling. Anger flared up inside her, red and foreboding. That she would not listen of course had been part of the plan, had it not? More trickery from the Twins and she was stumbling blindly into it. Deep down though, under that seething anger, Raven knew she had to at least try, "Ryce, you have to calm down and _SEE _what is going on here," Raven tried, "They are manipulating you all over again and you are letting them. If you'll let me explain you will see that."

Victor nodded solemnly at her side, "Ry, I don't know what's going on or what's got you so riled up. But c'mon, girl…THINK about who did this…about who you are listening to. The Twins? You trust _them_? Think about who is standing here with you. THAT is who you should trust."

The hysterical and frightening laughter rose up and out of her in staccato, machine-gun-like bursts. Wide, glassy, fever-glazed eyes switch now from Raven to Cyborg. That stare made him run cold, she was on a brink…and she was so close to toppling over. The unnerving laughter tapered off as she shook her head, shutting her eyes. Had he been privy to Ryce's meeting with Raven in the alley way after Nearson – and how long ago that now seemed – he'd have recognize the laugh. When she reopened her eyes, that sickly stare had once again shifted. Now, it rested on the largest of their number. She gazed up at the Marine as she took one unsteady step forward…two…three.

"Tell them."

He stared down in stormy silence.

Another one of those laughs fell out of her mouth, forcing a nearly involuntary flinch from Gauntlet as he stepped back away from her, "Oh…we are beyond the silence now, Xavius, so open your damn mouth and TELL them who let the twins in. Tell the humans who recruited Y'mael, Shaitan, and Marid, _Big Brother_."

No one missed the familiar term she had referred to the massive soldier with eyes widened and, in some cases, narrowed in distrust around the room. Xavius, X, The Marine, and now Big Brother stared in quiet neutrality at his younger charge, his younger sister.

"…you are causing a scene."

His voice was a smooth and deep rumble, like dark velvet. It did not crack or grate from lack of use. It flowed.

"Oh and we can't be embarrassed now, can we?" Ryce asked nastily, "Not like at home, right? So C'MON, Brother! Allons-fuckin'-Y! Let's tell all the humans what happened!"

"You were making poor choices. I corrected them," Xavius' frown deepened as he shifted forward to stand fully before the much smaller girl.

"They were MY CHOICES to MAKE! I am not a CHILD," she snarled back, climbing.

Xavius stared down at her, his tone almost bordering on bored, "You _**are**_ a child_**.**_ And above that, a spoiled brat. Even in this I gave you too much freedom. That was a mistake. I placed too much responsibility into the Fools' hands."

"You could have KILLED HER!" Nigel growled and it was only Sophie's hand on his arm the kept him from taking a swing at the larger creature.

"She is unharmed."

"You call THIS unharmed!" Beast Boy snapped, "She's shaking! Her eyes were **bleeding**, you 'roided-out lunatic!"

The shifter's innards clenched when the Marine's gaze turned down towards him. All at once, he understood the terror that had flickered in the Twins' eyes before they had fled. It had nothing to do with the angels size…it was something in that stare. Something ancient and wise and knowing and terrible all at the same time.

"This fool's errand has gone on long enough. If she wishes to still throw away her life for people like you? That is her choice. I have only shown her the truth behind it all."

"And why s'that!" Ryce asked, her voice cracking and pitchy, "Why not give the lowly humans the reason Exxy? Y'want TRUTH! How 'bout the truth that you're an embarrassment back at home. Tha's why you did this! Not to protect me, but t'stop the whispers an' laughter behind y'BACK. 'Cause Azrael's first born is a babysitter now an' a BIG FUCKIN' JOKE!"

_CRACK._

Xavius was a being who could have snapped her neck if he so chose with a flick of his pinkie. He could have knocked her insides from one world into another with just a flick of his wrist and allow her skin to fall to the floor without her ever knowing what had hit her. So it was, perhaps, something of a wonder he could restrain his power so greatly that her head barely snapped to the side with the slap.

…not that ANY of that mattered to the Titans.

They moved forward as one, prepared to hit the angel with everything they had at their disposal. Not one cared for the damage against their home this was going to incur or more importantly the damage to themselves.

"…stop…"

Their halt was not as unified, sputtering to a stop to stare at their maid whose head had dropped in defeat. A light – barely there – red mark on her cheek proved the slap that had pulled her from her hysteria had so much more bark than bite. Perhaps, seeing her calming and relatively uninjured abated the lust for violence from their eyes, but it could not remove it or the anger completely.

"I, normally, am not one for the calling of names…but you are a 'bastard.' And you will step away from our friend," Starfire said lowly, her eyes and clutched hand begins to hum with green light.

"Get the fuck out," Noel growled.

Xavius raised a thick brow at them all and then turned back to his sister, "Why not ask the girl what she wants."

All eyes turned to Ryce. For several moments, it did not seem if she would lift her head to look at them. As if she would stand there deflated and defeated and say nothing. Slowly though, she began to lift her head. When she looked at them, still trembling, eyes still lost and confused…they saw everything they had worked for and all the trust they had built with her dead and gone.

"…I will…will finish my duty and notify you when D'xias arrives. I'll continue performing my s-services for board…as agreed."

"Ryce…" Rob said quietly trying to step towards her. She merely flinched back away from them all the more, toward Xavius as he came around behind her. His hand enveloped her shoulder gently as he turned her away and lead her towards the door…towards the hall…and out of the room.

* * *

She slammed the door in Xavius' face. She knew he could break it down with a blink of his eye if he so chose to…but she did it anyway. The crack of it sharply hitting and locking into its frame seemed to bring some miniscule satisfaction to the shredding ache in her chest.

A lie.

That's all this had been. A lie…and a game. After everything she had tried to prove and show…she had come up empty-handed. The heroes and heroines she clung to as proof of something greater…dissolved like sand through her fingertips. It hurt…it hurt so much as she shifted her weight off the locked door, tears building in her eyes with their tell-tale sting. Unclenching her shaking and numb fingers, she flicked the Orb back into its basketball sized shape and returned it to its podium beside the chess game. All Ryce wanted was to crawl into her bed and hide…close her eyes and let sleep and dark take away just had bad this hurt was.

The package was still on her bed…the one Noel had placed into her hands in the seconds before the alarm sounded. Asking if it was a gift, he had nodded as said, "I guess in a way it is." He had told her to wait in opening it…and for once she had listened, placing it on her duvet and leaving the room so as to avoid the temptation of stealing a quick peek inside. A few hours ago she had glanced back over her shoulder in excited curiosity. Now?

_("Far Better than me."_

_**BLAM!**__)_

With a snarl she ripped the rest of her way across the room, a clawing hand seizing the package so hard that her fingers disappeared into its cardboard flesh. Tears streaming from her eyes she launched the brown package across the room and into the wall. Blackly delighting in the sound it made as it struck, watching pictures flutter down on top of it after it slid to the floor. A sob broke up out of her throat through her angry growling as she stumbled backwards into the wall opposite. As if imitating the package's path she slid down as well, sitting on the floor and curling her knees up to her chest.

"_**Will you inform me of when you will be done with your tantrum?**_" a voice called from near her bed. Her tears still falling, she looked up to the Orb…and its pulsing black.

* * *

Tim had told them to leave her alone. He had said give Ryce her space to calm down and collect herself. Reeling from the outburst and the tiny angel's sudden change of heart, most of the team had acquiesced to their leader's command. Therefore, Sophie Matthews found her going down the long hall that lead to Ryce's room alone.

Really? Give her _**space**_? Leave her along to sink further into her confused state was more like it. Sophie could not think of a worse course of action then allowing the much younger girl to withdraw any more into the abusive embrace of her manipulative family. They were supposed to protect the vulnerable…and that was just what Ryce was right now. As she rounded the corner, the heavy set woman was already contemplating knocking the door down if she so had to.

What she could not knock down, however, was Xavius' hulking form guarding the outside.

Pausing, she waited tensely, anticipating some attack or defensive strike from the Marine. Seconds flew by and the angel did not so much as shift his weight, let alone even regard her presence. With caution, she approached, senses at the ready to disintegrate into a cloud of bats and defend herself if need be. Her steps carried her ample weight to stand before X and she looked up.

He did not look down.

Because of her weight, Sophie was often mocked, leered, and mocked. Despite not being the "ideal look", one could always count on the fact that she was hard to miss. She stood out in a crowd.

Being ignored so utterly was a new experience she decided she didn't like.

She cleared her throat, feeling momentarily foolish when she was again ignored.

"E-excuse me," she finally said, as forcefully as she could. "I…need to pass. You're in the way."

The Marine was a statue.

"_Look,_" Sophie snapped, "I don't care about your gargoyle attitude; you need to _move_, now. Ryce, she's in pain, and you've done enough to make it worse without adding to this!"

Nothing. Something in the room behind him crashed into the wall with a thud. She had to get in there

Sophie growled in annoyance, "And _who _are you, really? Are you…she said you were her brother! Are you really? My brother…my brother was a terrible arse, and Ryce's family, we've seen enough of them to see what they think of her, and how they treat her," she looked sick momentarily, "that thing today…that was one of her brothers too, wasn't it. And then there's _you_, popping in and out all the time, silent and glaring and condescending her, and putting her down!"

Her eyes were fiery, clenching her fists as X did not give an inch. "Are you _really_ on her side?"

Stormy eyes remained trained on the wall opposite Ryce's door. He did not so much as blink.

"…Are you really her brother?" she asked, sounding tired.

"… … …"

"How could you HURT her like that if you are…I don't know what you showed her…but you are supposed to PROTECT her. You broke her damn heart!" she snapped up at him.

The wall that was the Marine remained silent.

For several moments, the mortician did not believe that the angelic soldier was going to respond to her in any way. She assumed that he would remain frozen in place, eyes trained carefully on the wall before him not unlike the steadfast guard of Buckingham palace. No emotion…no reaction…not even the slightest shift of those slate stone colored eyes.

Which was why she felt her heart actually giving a shuddering skip when Xavius' head slowly turned about and down to not only look at her, but to look her straight in the eye. His ever-present frown seemed to deepen without ever moving at all as he regarded her. It was a searching piercing gaze, seeming to gleam right through her…through every intention or lie she ever presented to the world in her life and see the kernel of truth and self at the very center.

"…I do not care about your feelings or your sensibilities, human," he rumbled his tone neutral and calm, "I do not care if you see me as a monster. For every dark deed and task my hands have wrought...I can name hundreds of thousands of sins committed by your kind for far more selfish reasoning and gains. I care even less about how my youngest of sisters – youngest of siblings – views me. If she is to hate me? Then I will revel in it.

"For it means that she is _**ALIVE**_ to do so."

Sophie stared back at the man, who resumed his guarding position, her mouth a thin line.

Despite her outbursts, her questions, she had not been truly expecting an answer, an acknowledgement, and now she was left… numb.

She opened her mouth, trying again. But the moment was gone, she saw. Whatever she had done to hold the old Marine's attention for that short time had vanished, and she somehow knew he wouldn't be gracing her with it again, but simply resume his quiet vigilance.

She blinked bitter tears away. "You have to move."

In the end, he didn't.

* * *

Darkness enrobed the silent room, its quiet only broken by the soft breathing of its slumbering occupants. A nearly inaudible click went up from the clock on the night stand signaling the seventh hour of the morning. In the bed the man slept curled protectively about his long-term love, face buried into the crook of her neck. Sans mask Timothy Drake's face seemed far more human and less intimidating which he had been taught by mentor and life that he must force it to be. The Titan leader at peace was an interesting sight to witness.

Even in peace, however, he was not unawares. Even in sleep he had long ago honed his skills and perception to remain as aware as one could be. So, deep in the sluggish reaches of his sleep filled mind he knew that Starfire and himself were not alone in this room before his eyes had even thought to crack open.

Swiftly, he bolted up in bed hand darting to the table beside it, readying a bladed projectile should his guest prove hostile. What he found though was Ryce sitting back in an easy chair she had pulled back from the wall to place before his open window. She was slouched and small looking in that chair which all but swallowed her curled up form…her face solemn.

"Ryce…what the hell are you doing in here?" he asked quietly, trying to keep his voice down so as not to wake the sleeping woman beside him at this seemingly late hour.

Her face did not change, not even a start at his sudden consciousness, "Better view of it…"

Anger began to pulse dully behind the man's eyes at this intrusion and lack of helpful response, "Better what? Actually…you know what? Nevermind. Ryce…get out. I don't know what is going on, but we will talk about it in the morning."

A small humorless grin quirked up at the sides of her mouth as she turned her head to face him. That sad – defeated almost – look in her eyes gave him pause as she said quietly, "It is the morning, Tim. Time to move your knights into place…time for the endgame."

Confusion plagued the Titan looking back at her for only a moment or two, considering her statement, the open window and the sheer darkness of his unlit room. Then, a hand reached out and plucked the alarm clock from his bedside table. The time gleamed back green at him, seven o' three. His legs were already swinging around and out from beneath the covers as he looked down. Already they were carrying him over to the girl in the chair as he dropped it on the bed. His eyes followed her path out the window.

The sky had bled a dark poisoned indigo and black. The diseased looking shades and clouds seeming to swirl and churn on one another, all racing and stemming towards the city, over which they formed an ominous tunnel. He did not need to ask what was at the end of that tunnel. Robin's stomach clenched at the sight of it, dread and orders already flooding his mind. A sigh rose up from the chair below him.

"Titans…go..."

* * *

_The scars of your love, they leave me breathless,  
I can't help feeling,  
We could have had it all,  
__**(You're gonna wish you never had met me)**__  
Rolling in the deep…~ __**Adele **__"Rolling in the Deep"_

_

* * *

_

Author's Notes: The ponies meme…I don't get it. I am never going to get it. I am perfectly okay with not getting it. My life is complete knowing I do not get nor want to get it. This has been a public service announcement from your friendly and frankly REALLY confused neighborhood Woman in Black.

The Man in a Suit agreed. Though added that Fluttershy was strangely adorable.

He was properly dealt through shock therapy and a severe caning and has since regained his damn senses.


	15. Chapter 15

_Everybody wants to change the world  
Everybody wants to change the world  
But no one…No one wants to die  
Wanna try, wanna try, wanna try, Wanna try, wanna try, now  
__**I'll be your detonator **__~ Na Na Na, MCR_

* * *

"_I ran into my brothers the other day."_

"_How did that go?"_

"_They brought up Kyle…and my foray into the realm of do it yourself dentistry."_

"_Jokes like that are what brought you to me, you realize," Dr. __Sidlakus__ sighed softly, "Miss Finn, why do you think you feel the need to stall and shield yourself during the first minutes of each and everyone one of our sessions? You make random non sequiturs and veer the conversation away in an attempt to not have to work on our talk, before you change and decide to take it seriously."_

_Ryce sighed, "Everyone needs to get a bloody grip. S'a stupid joke."_

"_Do you always see humor in a suicide attempt?"_

"_Like I told T-" she gave a sigh correcting herself, "__**Robin**__…only my own. I was stupid…I was strung out…I had a whole damn world dyin' in my head. Quite easy to forget yourself and go a wee bit mad, when you've got that much junk in you and the world screamin' out around you. I failed obviously…and I know now that's a good thing. Not sure why Robin and 'Mr. Oz' had to make such a big damn deal out of it. You'd think they'd want me to be sittin' about wallowin' in some emo-ed out trance, writin' obsessive letters to 'My Chemical Romance' and poetry about 'drownin' in the deep dark abyss of my withered bleak soul.' Try to eat the end of one li'l gun and you'd think I went on a killin' spree._

_"In the end, Doc? I don't see the point of all this. Bad shit happened...it sucked. Me sittin' here and cryin' about it is not goin' to do a thing...not like its goin' to magically traverse the annals of time and make it suck any less back then...all m'goin' to end up with is puffy eyes, a bunch of snotty tissue, and a stomach __ache."_

_Dr. Sid took out his glasses and cleaned them, "It's about release, Ryce. It is about achieving catharsis, moving past the chain of your past... changing."_

_For a moment or so she had no answer. When she spoke it was as if the previous few minutes had not even occurred, "The Titans invited me to stay…permanently…"_

"_Your oh-so-subtle change in the subject aside…that is good to hear…"_

"…_aye…aye it is."_

* * *

"Tim, is that what I think it is?" Noel asked gravely.

Robin did not answer him. Really, even if he had the time to, it was a question that needed no answer. The click of his utility belt around his waist sounded so loud even in all the chaos of the Titans' assembly. Looking around at his team as he smoothed the edges of his mask over his face, Tim could see the tension and alarm, the edges of sleep falling away in swift succession. They knew. He did not have to say anything because they simply knew.

"Robin, my calculations place the point of origin near the business sector of the city," Cyborg called to him, his fingers flying rapidly across the mainframe's keyboard.

"At least it's not residential," Nigel frowned coming up beside his leader before casting him a defeated glance, "…she is not in her room…everything is packed back into boxes."

To say that he was not expecting this would be a lie. But to hear it said out loud still stung something in the hero. What had he been hoping for? A sudden change of heart in the last of the thirty-six hours since they had seen their young maid? A rush of explanation, apology, or revelation? No, perhaps it was just a simple goodbye. Not a thank you even…just a goodbye. They were watching him, waiting to see what his reaction would be. Shaking his head, he moved for the door.

"You all know the drill by now. Take down his drones first and then go in for Target 0. We have two hours, so nothing intricate. In and out, understood?" he called as several of the Titans began to follow. Noel was one of the first to move he noticed, almost eager to leave the Tower.

But not all were following. A glance back showed those that delayed…Kory…Sophie…Rob…surprisingly, Raven.

"Tim…" Starfire said quietly, "should we…should we not at least say goodbye?"

Her eyes showed that she was hurting, Tim could see that, and seeing it only made the sting pulse all the more. Opening his mouth, perhaps to offer some sort of comfort to his love, he was cut off harshly by the white haired meta passing him

"She has no interest in saying it to us and we are wasting time on bullshit."

In the end, as harsh as it sounded...he was right. One by one, they followed Savior out the door and then out of the Tower.

* * *

In chess…the pieces all have their roles and their strengths. Most of all, they all have their weaknesses. A pawn, the lowest of the lowly, used and sacrificed at will for some greater good. They are the peasants. They are the peons. They are the fodder for those above their station and the chessmaster's hand.

She watched them leave. More than once, she started towards them. More than twice, she faltered in her steadfast resolve to allow them to walk out the door, reluctantly carrying with them her betrayal. She heard their words and she saw their hurt and, in some cases, their outright anger. They needed that anger now, and she needed this time. With a heavy sigh, Ryce pulled her shade back, its eyes and ears – her eyes and ears – having served their purpose, and she went about her task.

The objects she had gathered on the table before her were pocketed quickly into the many layers of Noel's gift. There was no wondering of whether Tim would frown upon her "borrowing" them from the evidence room. Deep down she had a feeling that either way this day ended, it would no longer matter.

Soon, the table laid bare, save for two final pieces. The first was a vaguely cylindrical shape about two and half times the width of her palm, wrapped tightly in fabric until it was completely covered, with twine sealing it shut in a tight bind. She wordlessly reached for this unknown – and her fingers almost hesitated in grasping it – and placed it securely in her front pocket.

The last object…had stuck out even before it sat alone. For several moments, she just looked at it, her face contorted into a storm of bittersweet nostalgia. Her fingers trembled for different reasons when they scooped the weathered photo up, bringing it close as if to see it more clearly. It had never made it up unto her wall, tucked away gently in a book she had never liked and did not want to ever read again. Not to be forgotten, but to be safe from her guilt.

There were many people in the picture, though only six seemed even remotely aware of their image being captured. Five of those six were posed and at least okay with the picture occurring. The sixth, a thick stocky man on the shorter side of average height was staring at the lens in a mixture of surprise and outright anger. Silver was tinting the sides of his jet black hair, yet his age could have been placed anywhere between his early thirties to late fifties. In this moment nearly two years later, Ryce realized she had never asked.

In his arms was a little girl who grinned back at the camera, waving her tiny hand at it in delight. No more than five or six years old, the stocky man was holding her in a protective embrace, his burly arms nearly enshrouding her form completely: He was attempting to rise a hand to block her while she pushed it down.

"Sam," she whispered, letting the name roll off her tongue, "Jeanie."

The other four were broken off into two couples. The first, a winter-summer romance that at first glance might seem completely one-sided. An older, forty-something man with graying messy hair and the remains of a scruffy suit jacket, looked down at his much younger companion in annoyance. That companion had come up from behind him as he sat and wrapped him into an embrace, placing a kiss on his neck while sending a wink to the camera. It was clear that the scruffy man had been distracted from his pose by this last-second fondness. Yet even then, his vibrant, impossibly blue-green eyes stood out in clear contrast against his unkempt appearance. It made one wonder what his striking stare would have looked like, had he been facing the camera.

For all that surface irritation, however, he was leaning back into the tender touch, his hand placed gently on mid-twenties youth's baring shoulder. As ragtag as they all were, the young blond that stood with arms wrapped around the older man remained somehow out of place: Long, well-cared-for golden hair hung out of a messy ponytail and across the neck in playful flyaways. With skirt-hugging hips…the playful kiss and wink…the blond was beautiful.

"Morgan," again in that careful – and increasingly watery – tone, a finger caressed first the older man and then his younger, affectionate assailant, "E-Eddie."

And then…there were the final two.

A mirror face looked back at her, so alike and yet not at the same time. A touch gaunt, and more than a touch afraid with its awkward, timid grin. She had turned sixteen a week or so before she had snapped this and the events that had occurred recently explained the pinkening blush on sixteen-year-old Ryce's cheeks, as she let herself be hugged by the taller man with the blond buzz cut beside her. A face she saw everyday that, like the younger mirrored Ryce in this picture…was nothing like the person captured here. It had taken her a few weeks to realize how grateful she was that Robert Candide and this man were nothing alike…to thank whatever was listening for the differences between the broken and the whole. The man in the picture, like his younger girlfriend – recently lover then – was lost…and shattered; she hoped to never see that look again in either face.

"…Robbie…this s'for you guys, too," her voice breather, an oddly strong whisper in the dark, as she slipped it in her chest pocket. There was one last move to make.

In chess…the pieces all have their roles and their strengths. Most of all, they all have their weaknesses. A pawn, the lowest of the lowly, can be so much more. If it holds on, if it ducks the swings of the sacrificial ax and scrambles its desperate way across the board, avoiding the chessmaster's hand…it can transform. As it slides into the square of its opponent's territory, the peasant's rags drop off and a crown falls down upon its head. Sword in hand, the lowest and weakest find strength over the Rooks, Bishops, and Knights she left in her wake.

Ryce's feet carried her out the door, her eyes on fire.

Pawn is promoted to Queen.

Queen to C7.

* * *

They were already evacuating the area by the time the Titans reached the epicenter of the ominous funnel. Business men and women in their suits, building staff, custodial crew…police had already moved a majority of them out and were moving out themselves in a manner that told how adapted they were to such situations. The flow out of the business area had slowed to a trickle when Tim stood before a ten story office block and looked up to see the clouds swirl and writhe above a single figure.

"Cyborg," he started, but the cybernetic man was already lifting his arm to the Titan leader. Glancing down, Robin was granted an enhanced and zoomed-in view of their infamous opponent. The others, attempting to keep an eye trained upon the figure, also spared a glance towards the image.

"…he's a goat…we're fighting a goat?" Gauntlet said dryly.

"I believe the correct term is satyr," Beast Boy interjected.

Raven's mouth transformed from a neutrally thin line to a deepening frown. Beast Boy had been closer with Satyr…but even that was no quite right to describe what D'xias' appearance seemed to be. It occurred to her that they had never even gotten a proper description from their wayward maid.

Mottled, grey-purple skin…a piebald mess, stretched too thin in some places and hanging too loose in others…an ill-fitted Halloween costume donned at the last minute. He stood at a little over seven feet, from the tip of the ram horns jutting just above his ears to the cruelly sharp, and curved hooves that were his feet, jagged and cracked from usage. He could be laughably called man-shaped from the belly up…goat from the navel down.

That is, if you ignored the black tail – like their former maid's but shorter and ending in a club like construct from which his spines emerged, curling patterns through the air behind him. Further setting him apart from his goaten brethren of legend were the inky colored protrusions from his back. They appeared to be wings…wings that writhed and ripped like a bag of snakes…as if the wings themselves were more alive than that which they were attached too. His hands were too big for his body…the fingers long and curved into claws.

Above all else though, Raven's eyes were drawn to and repelled by his face. Unremarkable and plain…featureless, almost, in how simple it was. Nose, two eyes, a mouth. Nothing to really hold you or push you away.

And yet…it hurt to look at it. It hurt to look at him in the same way that it hurt to hear Ryce talk when she slipped back into whatever language her father's tongue could be called. Everything – but most of all, that blank face – about D'xias seemed inherently wrong.

"Worms are writhing, beneath my feet," the light, uninflected voice intoned, clear as day as if the half-angel stood right beside them. It was _such _a soft voice, and yet the Titans jumped at it nonetheless.

The image of the creature, in Cyborg's arm, suddenly shifted slightly and looked up towards the sky…but not really, as the screen showed him directly facing them all, taking in their expressions and stares.

Somehow, he could see them.

"You would be the young that the Maggot has sent against me, then?"

D'xias' mouth did not move in time with his words. It followed, trailing after them in a poor mimicry of speaking. A glamour…his entire face nothing more than a mask pulled on in a poor pantomime of a humanoid appearance. Raven had suspected as much, her eyes narrowing.

"And that makes you the overgrown toddler throwing an inter-dimensional tantrum because daddy doesn't love you enough?" Savoir said coldly, Shimmer blades beginning to form around him.

"The irony of you saying is not lost even in moments of crisis," Gauntlet nodded sagely.

Few of them could help to not repress the shudder that quaked through them at the sound of the goat-thing laughing lowly, almost politely, as its head tilted to the side, "Good…banter. It is good. It wastes time. Please, carry on?" His lips once more moved out of sync, like a badly dubbed movie.

The blond Titan's face hardened, regret glittering in his eyes. There was no time for what he was starting. There was no reproachful or admonishing look cast his way for his typical demeanor though, eyes all beginning to shift and scan the area around them. They needed to find the drones…needed to start this and end it as quickly as possible. Ryce had said they would be here, but as precious seconds flew past nothing stuck out or appeared. Once more they heard D'xias' even voice speak.

"The Maggot's presence…I do not sense it. I expected it. It is a coward, as always."

"Stop calling her that!" Starfire growled, her eyes disappearing in a rage-filled green glow for a brief second.

_Crack!_

The man-thing no longer faced the screen. At some point during her outburst, his head had snapped down, facing the group truly for the first time, and focused solely on Starfire.

Something odd was happening to the half-angel. The edges of his face blurred and came in and out of focus erratically, his expression utterly blank save for a few, half-second twitches of disturbingly widened eyes and teeth pulled into a snarl. His tail coiled and trashed wildly and—_crack!_—slammed against the roof like a whip, chipping away at the stone. His skin seemed to be..._bubbling_.

The sudden change in demeanor caused the Titans to huddle closer to their orange companion with a certain degree of uncertainty. They didn't understand the whys, but suddenly the danger seemed to escalate.

But, then, the creature's expression stabilized into something that imitated discovery.

"Ah…you have grown attached to it," his soft voice rumbled in a way that made the Titans' skin crawl: He was pleased. "Good…Good, the most joy comes from those it cling to, like all parasites. Does it fuck any of you? The last one it fucked made the most _crunchy_ gurgling sound when I broke all his bones. The Maggot's silence as I did it…that is what made the moment. Has it spoken of the time to any of you?" the image of D'xias had its thin lips peeling back in a poor mockery of smiling.

A green flash of power ripped up from Starfire, pulsing hot as it rocketed up at their former maid's brother. Their eyes widened as the goat-like thing made no move to even dodge the burning blast of heat, allowing it to collide with his bare, mottled chest. The momentum knocked him back a few steps, the sharp hooves sure to be leaving dents in the roof. The heat sizzled cruelly into the too-tight, too loose flesh, peeling it back in blackened melting curls. A rattling cry shrieked for a brief moment, nearly driving Nigel to his knees before it was cut off, and D'xias' stare switched to the hovering orange woman glaring at him in hate.

He began to laugh again.

They recognized the healing, having seen it more than once in Ryce when she had injured herself. Healing as if time had sped up exponentially around the wound as it mended and filled out. The pained look of force was not on his face though, as it would have been on hers. Just the simple attempt at a smile, which had not so much as faltered in the attack.

"You are far cry from the ragtag ants…a far cry from the pretend-soldiers who sported the black and red spider band upon their arms…finally, after so many easy squattings, my sister-thing has thought to try to send something other than soft, breakable toys to their end. It was always slow," D'xias chuckled. "It's in its blood."

"Star, save that anger…save your power," Noel said coolly, seeing how the tamarenean started riling up again, "We need it for the drones."

This seemed to catch the half-angel's attention as his gaze switched to the white haired Meta, "Oh? So, Maggot's mouth has been running. That ss almost good strategy…Miracles do happen," he chuckled, to himself rather than them, and the Titans saw how he thrived on insulting the girl. "…You seek my cuttings? I will not keep you waiting."

The Titans were seasoned warriors…soldiers that guarded not just a city, but often the world at large. They had seen much, done much; little could confuse or surprise them. Which is why, it was such an odd moment when they found themselves staring at the two small forms D'xias had just tossed down from his perch to the pavement before them.

"…did the biggest Billy Goat Gruff really just throw a dead cat at us?" Cyborg asked flatly.

"AND a dead pigeon," Beast Boy nodded looking thoroughly repulsed by the broken mangled, clearly road kill remains, "…wow…you live in a city for how long and some how I have never SEEN a dead pigeon…or a baby one…"

"Ergo pigeons must be immortal," Gauntlet chimed in.

"Pigeons are the Highlander?"

"There can be only four hundred million," Noel muttered.

"If you three are done?" Raven frowned at her boyfriend for encouraging them, before nodding them over to the genocidal angel once more, "I believe we have a problem."

The team watched as the pulsing "wings" on his back began to spread…and separate. They were not wings at all. The constructs writhed like snakes through the air behind him, hundreds of dozens of ink-black tendrils of no set width and length that he formed and unformed into wing shapes…tentacles that grappled and clawed and trembled in the air around him. They moved as if alive…separate from their host and hungry. D'xias' too-large and clawed hand reached back and gripped at the squirming mass, the two appendages slashing violently in his hold, as if they knew what was to come. Without so much as a blink, he ripped them from his back and dropped them to the city street below.

They moved like worms…like overgrown, deadly-fast leeches, leaking blood from their gorged stomachs. Ravenously, they latched onto the roadkill carcasses, burrowing down past muscle and bone with a wet squelch. Before the Titans could react with confusion, the dead creatures began to shift and pulse, tendrils beginning to sprout from their growing, twitching bodies. Robin's hand flashed down to his belt, "Titans! Take them out! Take them out now!"

A shimmer strand flashed out towards the cat as its remaining eye bled orange and its iris switched to lay flat, like a goat's. A beheading ax of gold arced down towards the pigeons body as its beak clacked open in an oddly bahing shriek, its wings flapping and sprouting more of those ink black tentacles.

"I wonder, how will you respond to this?" D'xias asked politely. They could not help but glance up towards him.

Blood running cold, Robin saw without Cyborg's aid, the pajama-clad tot trembling in the goat-thing's gripping hands.

"Ah. The 'selfless' response. Yes, that will do."

* * *

He was waiting.

Over the eons…that had become a majority of Xavius' duties: Waiting.

Once, it had been waiting for his Father. Waiting for orders…for commands…for attacks that never came…and those particularly bad type of 'attacks' that came more frequently since the death of his lovely Caitlyn Gallagher.

Now, he waited on his sister. Waited for her to see the truth…to see the folly…waiting for her to understand her limits and go back to where he could keep her watched and safe. The past year and a half of being her shadow, no more than a blink to something as old as him…was nonetheless tiring. So, for once, he did not mind the waiting. Not if the waiting was to return home.

And then she was there. Standing on the roof and watching him. She was the one waiting now. Waiting for her brother to turn and regard her. When he did, all he found were her eyes hovering in the dark doorway, watching him with all the curiosity and warmth of a child. The anger was gone…so was the hate. Something else had crawled up out of her too look out through those eyes, and the Marine could see that it meant nothing good. He knew the words about to fall from her mouth. Perhaps part of him wished that they would not…perhaps he did not care either way.

"…M'sorry. M'stayin'."

A simple enough statement. Four little words – that her accent somehow made sound like only two – that said far more than they ought. The Marine began to shake his head, unclear as to whether it was in condescension or disappointment, "After what you have seen-"

"S'not that simple."

Regarding her – almost looking down at her – Xavius straightened, "Only because you refuse it to be. After everything that you have been given…after all the chances you have wasted. You think it some moral high ground to throw it back in our Father's fac-"

There was no allowing this, though. No allowing him to get that far in his train of thought before Ryce's face contorted in anger. In exasperated rage she threw her hands up in the air and began to yell, "God damn it, Xavius! Don't you get it, _**yet**_! He used you…just like he uses ME, like he uses EVERYONE! All m'throwin' back in his face are the LIES that bastard has hammered down on us from day one!"

It took the massive man a moment to realize the anger was not directed at him. He took a step forward and narrowed his eyes, "You will watch your tone when you speak of our Father, little girl."

"No. I will not. M'sick and tired of bein' a cowerin' pet at his feet, X. M'not goin' to kiss his arse for the rest of my life for whatever scraps of approval he sees fit to throw my way. Not anymore. NOT after what he did to us!" she raged from her dark, shady place in the door.

"What are you babbling on about, now?"

Jaw clenching, her eyes locked with his own, "You tried to help me, Xavius. I don't blame you for what you did 'cause you were tryin' to keep me safe. It may have been backwards as all hell, but you tried to help me. So m'goin' to help you. M'goin' to tell you the _**real **_truth."

* * *

_"__**Will you inform me of when you will be done with your tantrum?**__" a voice called from near her bed. Her tears still falling, she looked up to the Orb…and its pulsing black._

"_Go away…" her voice cracked._

_A sigh, like one given to a child who has asked a stupid question, __**"And here I had thought you to be made of far stronger and smarter stock."**_

"_I said…Go. Away." her watery voice now coming out in a venomous growl._

"_**Ah but we were playing a game. I suppose you are too enthralled in this newest one, however to recall that,"**__ the voice drawled from the pulsing black Orb. It was enough to draw her attention back to it, tear streaked face peering at it over her knees._

"_What are you talkin' about?"_

_Taking the prompt, that familiar voice spoke, __**"I will be quick as it appears time is winding down. How is it that 'Big Brother' KNEW of the events that occurred on All Hallow's Eve?"**_

_Ryce stared…eyes wide and watery in their confusion, "I…I don't underst-"_

_His voice began to grow impatient, __**"YOU, who has spent so long watching. You, who for such pitiable reasons sought solace in the goings on of this world. You did not know. You did not see because it was taken back. So, how is it that two idiots and an over-glorified army grunt knew what to do…how to show you? WHAT to show you?"**_

"_I don't know! They jus' did alright!" she snapped._

_Boredom joined the impatience once more, __**"Hn…as always, you run the gambit between brilliant and mind-bogglingly stupid. You are becoming more like Metestanathean every moment. You are as oblivious to the games you play pawn in as the demon is to your pathetic lo-"**_

_Ryce's eyes narrowed with her irises into paper-thin slits as she ripped up and off of the corner to her feet. Her blood roared in her veins, drowning out all sounds but that and her own shrieks, "__**SHUT UP**__! For once, jus' shut your fuckin,' ever-yappin' mouth!"  
_

"_**Then answer me, Deathling. Who. Told. Them."**_

"_I don't KNOW!"_

"_**Yes, you do. Now say it!"**_

_With an inarticulate roar of rage, a hand lashed out and gripped the rings floating around the black Orb tightly, her hip crashing into the table containing their game and nearly upturning it with the chess set. Her arm tensed, clearly about to swing the artifact hatefully into the wall with its accusing, frozen stares. To let it lay on the floor with that torn forgotten package._

_And then….she knew._

_Her whole form seemed to fall limp…barely enough strength remaining in her legs to keep her standing. The hand grasping the ring toppled from it back to her side where it swung uselessly. There was only one…only one who even could know. Only one person involved in this that would see something like this and have a role to play._

"…_Dad."_

_A low, slow clapping noises cam over the connection with his words, __**"And the last horse crosses the finish line. Your gambit has managed to move, if only slightly, away from stupid today."**_

"…_it doesn't matter," she said quietly after a few moments of silently taking this knowledge in, "Who mentioned it to X doesn't matter…what matters is what happened. This conversation is over."_

_Apparently the voice on the other end of the line disagreed with this sentiment as he continued to talk unabated, __**"I suppose you could look at it that way. If what you were shown about Collins was not a lie."**_

"_No," she cut him off shaking her head as her eyes dried, "The Orb does not lie… it CAN'T lie."_

"_**Not a lie then. An omission. It can cut away the truth…and make you see what someone WANTS you to see."**_

_Ryce paused at that, tilting her head to the side as she regarded the darkly glowing artifact. She ordered in a short, clipped tone, "…explain." _

"_**What happens to a man…when you peel away his layers piece by piece? What does he become when you take away every last shred of him until all that remains is one tiny, desperate root?"**_

_She stared at the Orb in stony silence, her silence prompting him to continue._

"_**The answer is he becomes anything you desire. So long as you know what pieces to cut away. The answer is you can make him dance like a puppet…"**_

_She knew…she knew and the answer suddenly seemed so obvious. It was an answer that should have made her blood run cold. Her eyes stared into the depths unflinching. Her voice remained neutral, "…you did it. You forced his hand." _

"_**I took away any reason that hand had to NOT do as I desired."**_

"…_and he knew. My father…he knows. Yet, he made sure that X would see a need to send the Twins against me anyway," her voice was all but a whisper._

"_**He did lord over death as it occurred…he saw what no longer lurked in Collins' heart. Therefore, he also saw whose fingerprints were upon it."**_

_Eyes gazed into the Orb. Her mouth a thin, expressionless line under those blank eyes. Slowly, she took a step back from the table. Then, two. Finally, she turned her back to it completely and strode calmly over to the other side of the room. Those carefully blank eyes__ fell on the ripped package on the floor._

_Noel's gift._

_She found herself sitting on the ground, fingers__ hooking into the gouges they had minutes ago __created;__ she pulled the top __off__ the __box and__ peered inside. _

_She had no words._

_She could only lift it from its container…and hug it close as the tears threatened to return._

_With fragile __care,__ she slipped it __on. It__ was heavy…but not quite as much as she would have imagined. There were other objects in the box…but she would need time to understand how to make use of them. The voice from the Orb was right, though. Time was something she was clearly running out of so she made her way to her open window. A __cool,__ wet breeze struggled its way in, whipping her hair around and making the __photographs__ along the wall flutter like spooked birds. _

"_He tricked both of us…Xavius and me," she spoke in a subdued tone._

"_**He moved his pawns into a position he felt advantageous. As he has, no doubt, always done and always will."**_

"_Do you know where I ended up…after we first had the pleasure of meetin'…when you decided stabbin' me was a polite way of sayin' hullo?" Ryce asked, her tone oddly light and without accusation._

"_**You are more likely than not **__**being **__**watched…**__**followed**__**."**_

_She laughed quietly, and along the wall in the dim light her shadow began to meld and shift. It swelled in size as odd shapes formed and unformed…and soon it was not just her __shadow—the __ sharpness of her teeth…the sudden point to her ears and the hands that began to claw showed that beyond a doubt. With little __effort,__ she pushed herself up unto the windowpane and __looked to__ the world below._

"…_only if I use the door."_

_There was a fluttering rush and the light from the window was __blocked by__ her form._

_When it flooded back…she was gone save for a few silvery feathers blown about the emptiness by the __breeze._

* * *

Ryce's feet carried her out of the shadows of the doorway and into the meager light to be found through those poisoned clouds. Xavius' gaze fell upon her and took in her state. There was no surprise in those granite eyes…perhaps only a tinge of expected resignation.

"What are you wearing?" he rumbled.

"…Noel gave it to me," Ryce said softly, her arms wrapped about herself as if to hug the jacket she wore. It was practically a carbon copy of the jacket it had been based upon, black with muted gold armor on its shoulders. The armoring was smaller and the cut tailored to fit her feminine form. A "T" emblazoned on the chest of the same muted gold made the Marine's jaw clench. If his little sister noticed his agitation she gave no sign, turning to allow him to see the back. Nostrils flaring in alarm, he somehow managed to find a way to stand even straighter than before. The ouroborus and ankh that were centered on her back in black was blazed across the back of the jacket in blood red, disturbed only by the two long zippers that ran up on either side of it. They ended just short of the neck and the bottom hem, the keys to them meeting just in the center.

"For flight," he said simply, referencing those zippers.

"…he and Raven rather thought of everythin'. They wanted me to be safe," she whispered, turning back to look at her brother properly.

"Until you are of no more use to them," it was not a question, but more of an acquiescent statement.

She met his stare unwavering, eye burning behind her glasses – and only now Xavius saw that they formed to her head as fight-friendly goggles – with resolve. When she finally did break the stare, Ryce made her way over to the roof's edge, her gaze now resting on the black and pulsating horizon. The spiraling of the clouds had halted. D'xias cloven feet had touched down. Briefly, Ryce wondered if the fight had already begun…and if they were winning. Her hand as if acting on it own came up to her front pocket in a gentle caress, her mind not really on the picture inside. Her mind falling back through years.

_("Oh god…Oh, A…it's over. It's okay, sweetie, it's finally over," the __too-pretty blond__ whispered into her hair as she __grappled tightly__._

_And then __the pretty__ smile was gone…__the pretty eyes were__ wide and confused…and she could hear Morgan. He was screaming…she could not. Screaming in a way her frozen throat could not._

"_E-Ed? Eddie? __**EDDIE**__!")_

"I can't go on with the Holocaust about to happen, Xavius. Not again. Not to them," Ryce whispered.

"Alaryce," Xavius' voice rumbled…and there was something more there than his usual neutrality. Ryce turned to him, and deep in those blank slate eyes she saw the worry, "You will lose _everything. _You face the Council when you return home."

She smiled, her heart aching for that preciously rare moment of concern…maybe even love from the being that raised her more than her father ever had, "…Brother…I am home."

She fell backward off the roof.

The rush of her descent roared in her ears, wind whipping her pulled-back hair in ribbons in the air around her. Ryce had always relished the first few moments…the freefall that made the world fall away around her, leaving nothing but herself. She watched the windows of the Tower flew past in a blur, turning mid air, her body pointed as if diving from a high board to the ground that was rushing up to meet her.

Her irises thinned into slits…her fangs lengthened…a deep burning and itch incapable of scratching flew up the length of her back. And when the ground was near enough to almost touch, the zippers ripped open…and she arched over the rocks and water. She was still smiling as she glided, her mind no longer on the figure standing on the Tower above her.

That figure…Xavius…The Marine…The Eldest of the House of Azrael…had been fast enough to stop her before she had even fallen an inch. All it required was a flick of his wrist and she would be back upon the roof, her feet steady beneath her. Even as she fell, however, he saw the arc of the dark cane clicking out to block his path. Even before that final wisp of blond hair fell beyond his view over the building's edge her heard the smooth, calm voice chuckling. The Marine's eyes darted to the side to lock with his father's amused stare.

"Let her go," Azrael said calmly.

"She will _**lose**_," Xavius emphasized the final word with what might have been emotion. All it did was make his father laugh once more as he lowered the stick, his thin drain pipe pants clad legs carrying him towards the edge. He looked, not over it, but out towards the horizon, at the figure in flight aimed for the eye of the storm.

"That…is her choice to make."

"You're having the time of your life aren't you?" a new voice bubbled up from behind Xavius. When he turned to see the dark clad teen…her pale, beautiful and at the same time terrible face…perhaps he could say his blood ran cold.

"I wouldn't say _**that**_," Azrael chuckled turning with a shallow bow to the Endless, "But you have to admit, my dear…everyone _loves_ a good show."

…Death did not smile back.

* * *

Rose…she had just wanted to drop the baby off in day care. A quick duck-in, hand off the still pajama-clad Mickey and then straight off to work. It was a simple enough process, part of a routine she had fallen into without complaint since her dead-beat and all together useless husband had taken off with that 'dancer' last year.

That had been…well it could have only been about fifteen minutes ago at most. One second she is running across the street, Mickey dozing against her shoulder, the next the sky had suddenly spiraled into a black and purple hue. Rose had only paused for a second upon seeing it, brow furrowed at the unusual clouds and weather. The air smelled…off…electric almost. It reminded her of the time as a young girl she had sat on her parents' porch, watching the storm move in, the air tense with it and the possibility of a funnel drifting it was way down to first touch and then rip up the ground.

That was when the world around her had run black as well. The last thing she was aware of was a pressure in the pack of her head, and the pavement racing up to meet her. When the world came back into focus edge of her vision still oddly grey. Dully, she was aware that she had broken the heel of her shoe as she toppled to the ground. A weak pang of annoyance rang through her, they had been new shoes. Mickey had helped her pick them out in the store last Satur-

Mickey.

Where was Mickey?

Panic reared up within her chest, an ugly, fanged and scaled thing that ripped about her in quick succession. The toddler could not have gone far, that was what she kept reassuring herself. The baby could simply not have gone far. After all, he did not even have shoes on! Rose could not bother herself with noticing the churning crackling sky over head. She could not bother with the clear ring of sirens under it all. All her mind could even hope to focus on was the little boy she had moments ago been clutching to her chest as she raced along the empty, early morning streets of Jump.

When she came upon the Titans, she might have kept on going, kept on running as that hoarse shrieking of her son's name rang out of her. They were but background noise, passersby of no consequence, her panic-addled mind incapable of realizing the potential they had to help her in her current predicament. For all these reasons and more she could have kept running.

"Hello, Rose," whispered the dark around her, "Look up and see what I have found."

Compelled out of reflex, her head shot up. There above them all, he stood, clutching Mickey to his bare, mottled chest, its oh-so-blank features trying to grin.

"MICKEY!" Rose squalled out, already racing forward. Nearly stumbling, she lost both the broken heel and its still intact twin. The creature's amusement – and she could FEEL it though his face could not convey it – burning into her. Over and over she screamed out her son's name as if it would do something to prevent the horror about to come. One second, Mickey was clutched with vicious intent, the next he was being dangled over the edge by one clawed hand. An animal's cry of grief ripped up from her. He was going to drop him dear god he was going to drop him right over the building's edge.

Then, there were hands. Insistent, grappling hands that seized her and halted her progress forward. A howl of her son's name and incoherent terror rang out of her, drowning out the commands being given by the grey skinned, red clad creature holding her back. All her mind could do was scream. All her mouth could do was scream. And still the Titan she would later know as Scalpel held her back.

Unbeknownst to her, the doctor had just saved her life. In her horror, Rose could not even hope to have seen what had become of those mere pieces of roadkill. Gauntlet's ax had found only concrete as the once-pigeon jerked up into the air, its body twisting and gorging until the length of it bottomed out at approximately five and a half feet. Its wings seemed to stretch out on either side of it at nearly twice that on each side. The taloned feet were gone, replaced with the same cruelly curved hooves of its creator. Dull, orange eyes blinked down at them with a terrible and dead stupidity, as if half of it had been blasted away on its return. With a click, its beak – now knobbed and hooked – dropped open to let loose a braying shriek, caught somewhere between eagle and ram. Where its tongue once was – eaten out through his neck by an alley cat not unlike what the one besides had been – a mass of slashing and nestling tendrils writhed, licking out at the air before its open beak.

Savior's shimmer strands seemed to fair better. But the moment of assumed success was brief. At first, it seemed the strike while hitting its mark, had no effect on the now twelve foot long cat. Then, the snapping and cracking reached their ears. It moved like liquid as its spinal column snapped and cracked back into place. Its remaining eye – stupid, mud like even, with their horizontal pupils – rolled over in its now spiral goat horned head, never falling on any of them. More snapping and cracking popped out of its body as it stood, its paws now permanently hooked into black claws that on any living creature would have been painful. The source of the crack became clear when it raised its tail – which added at least another four feet to its length and ended in a too familiar clump of spines. The fur and flesh ripped away in chunks by rot and trauma revealed the white of its bones. They shattered and reformed with nearly every move of its decayed form. With scuttling movements, its back legs scrambled forward to his front, until it had folded right in half, its spine snapping as it rested the upper half of its back on the lower, its neck breaking to watch them all as it "sat."

"Enough staring. Rip them apart!" Noel growled his fist ripping forwards in a mass of slicing shimmer blades.

No one needed another push. Even as the Once-Cat rocketed forward like a spring from its powerful back legs. It did not lunge for Savior, or even any of them, however. Body twisted and breaking to avoid the barrage of blades, its hooked its claws into a metal lightpost, bending it in half as it perched on it. It was fast…too fast for Robin's birdarang to even scratch it; the blade striking uselessly against the bent metal full seconds after the Cat had sprang up and scrambled up the wood of a telephone pole.

"MICKEY!" the woman Nigel assumed was the child's mother howled, and it was easy to see why as D'xias' fingers began to release the toddler one by one.

Starfire was a green blur, flying up towards them, followed by another green blur in the form of a golden eagle its talons extended towards the Pigeon creature diving at the Tamaranian. Up in the air, neither Titan could feel the city street rumble as it shifted beneath their teammates. They could however, see the inky black plate that ripped up from the ground, shielding the bird from the launched rocks, sonic blasts, and blades. The streets cracked as something groaned and growled from beneath them.

It had only been a moment of distraction for Garfield. A moment he could ill afford. Beneath them, a shot of shimmer aimed to air him went wide, Noel's balance failing in the face of the breaking street. In his distraction and with its speed the shifter did not see the Cat springing off the telephone poll, but he felt it when five of those ten front claws seized into his shoulder just as Noel felt it as those fang riddle teeth tore through the Shimmer as if it were nothing more than gossamer candy floss. Without her back up, Starfire did not have time to change direction, the Pigeon's skull colliding with her own in a crack. It could have been nothing more than a knockback, if not for that still hovering plate-like construct. It slapped down, like a paddle to a ball, sending the alien woman with a crash into the still quaking and tearing street.

Raven's eyes widened behind her hood, watching and whispering out a spell she knew would not reach the child in time. The ground no longer groaned…it roared. It did not quake or shudder…it exploded up from beneath her feet. Something black and shifting ripped up like a breaching whale. D'xias' last finger peeled up from the child's arm as both Morgue and Raven fell back in a rolling tidal wave of pavement and concrete. Scalpel lost his footing and glaive trying to protect the screaming mother. And who could blame her heartbroken screams?

Mickey began to fall.

* * *

In the building across the street, an office of little to no consequence, custodial and maintenance staff were scrambling to evacuate. Their progress was only stopped when the sickly clouds overhead were matched in their rumbling by the street below. They clung to what they could, desks and doorways, to balance themselves, sure to keep their distance from windows for fear of broken glass tearing into their skin.

They did not consider how wise a hindsight this was when the form came crashing through the sixth story window. A woman shrieked, a man cursed. It crashed into the cheap carpet, sliding across it with one arm ending in a clawed hand and a boot encased foot extended for balance. From its back, two sets of wing snapped out, the upper set spanning nearly twelve feet from tip to tip. They did not match one another…one a dark blue-black, leathery and bat like, its fingers and thumb hooked into sharp claws…the other a brilliantly bright white, its feathers fluttering gently to dislodge the errant glass from their creases.

The lower set was much smaller…perhaps only a quarter the size. Otherwise, they were perfect copies of their twins above, their positions switched. Yet further below this set of wings, a tail – the same blue black as those wings – gave a whip like crack as it slashed through the air and into a desk, sending a rain of wood splinters unto that still cheap carpet. This final flail seemed to balance the creature, its shuddering wings snapping shut to its back.

…they were gone.

And this thing…this it…was just a girl in a black jacket.

From her place on the floor, she looked up the fluorescent lights flickering above her head glaring off her glasses. With such a glare, it was hard to see where her eyes had fallen, her face angled towards the windows opposite of those she crash through. The woman was still screaming.

"Will you SHUT UP!" it…no _**she**_…barked back at her.

It was the only words the spectacled girl gave, before she was up on her feet and running. The fingerless leather gloves covering her hands smashed into the emergency exit that lead to the stairs and with crash of the door she was gone.

_Step step step step-step-step-step-step-stepstepstepstep_

Her mind hissed it out, her legs flashing out and ripping up them, two at a time. The seventh floor flew by her and she kept climbing. It was too far down…she wouldn't be able to get them back out in time. Conserve your energy, a voice from her mind ordered…and she would be damned if it did not sound like the ill-humored man who had given her this jacket.

Shoulder slamming into the door, she exited out unto the eighth floor with enough time to see the goat-thing's fingers finally release completely. With two steps she was beside a desk. Her movements seemed to slow, the child's descent too fast. Without breaking stride, her gloved hand fell down to grip at the paperweight, a cast iron gaped open clam, the words "Bermuda 1998" stamped into its base. The retention of such a stupid detail would stick out to her…her mind finding a bemused hilarity at such a tacky souvenir even as her arm spiraled about in a perfect pitch, sending the bauble through the window with crash. Moving through the motion, her gloved hand gripped the window sill, the gloves crushing the remaining glass without even a scratch.

She leaped out.

Once more the world rushed and roared with her fall. Hands clawing, she flung forward to grapple unto the falling toddler, tugging his screaming form to her body as her wings snapped back out behind her. The ground was racing up as she raced down...slower but still far too fast. They were angled wrong, the rush of air around her making it too hard the shift her wings properly. SHE was angled wrong, crashing down not to her feet but her back. With a kick of her legs she tried to right herself, the wings giving a powerful flap, their smaller twins trying to steer the air around them.

It sent her gliding just far enough to get her feet back under her. They hit the ground with a crackle of gravel, her body sliding once more backwards, one hand gripping the child, the other fighting to balance her less she fall over and earn herself a generous helping of road rash. A foot…two…five…finally nine before she came to a stop. The tot's head was tucked into the crook of her neck, his hands gripped around it in a near crushing embrace.

The world…sat quietly.

"…Insanity," a hate-laced voice broke the silence. The disbelief in the tone was also evident. "Have I broken you already, Alaryce?" D'xias continued in a sickly tone. "I remember the days where I had to maim your loved ones before that happened."

Several yards away, the Titans watched as Ryce stood straight…and then raised her hand in a two-fingered salute to her brother.

"Bite me, you throwaway freak," she gave a biting grin.

D'xias' fake eyes widened disturbingly.

The street exploded beneath them, the enraged roar of the brother not even swallowed by the rush of the building he stood on toppling down as the creature beneath tore through its foundation. Raven was briefly aware of their maid shielding the baby from the clouds of debris and dust before she fell back again, her hand flashing out to protect her friends, black magic and gold energy forming a both a shield around them and one hopefully around the lone girl.

She felt a sinking horror that she may have missed.

* * *

"Mickey! **MICKEY**!"

Rose had been up to her feet, scrambling like a woman possessed the second the Blacktrinian's grip on her had slipped. Tripping and crawling up and over rubbles she screamed into the dust. Somewhere behind her, the city's protectors were calling out…whether to her or one another she did not know nor care. They were not what mattered now as she tore her way blindly through the choking clouds of grit that the collapsing building and ruined street had thrown up. Another scream of her son's name ripped her throat raw…she had to scream because even in her transfixed, hysterical horror, she had seen the thing that had leapt from the building. She had seen it envelop her son in its arms as it crashed down with him. That screaming was the only thread tethering her to the bleak hope that she would be tucking her son in tonight.

A distressed, mewling whimper cut through her screaming. The cry of relief was already tearing out of her before she had even turned around completely. Her ears had long ago become trained to those little unhappy sounds of unhappiness, she knew them by heart. Dirty and trembling, Mickey blinked up blearily at her, clear disoriented. Without another word she scooped his tiny body close, hugging him for all she was worth. Balance thrown off, she topped back leaning into what felt to be a parked car that had some how been spared a launching by the exploding street.

"Mickey…oh god baby…baby are you okay? Mommy's here, sweetie," she sobbed burying her face into his dust covered hair.

"I flew, mommy," he sniffed sounding not all that happy about having done so, "Da'lady flew."

Rose could only nod, not so much as granting a second thought to this 'lady.' Gripping her son close she used to wall for leverage, beginning to push herself back up to her feet. It was only then that she looked up to see the figure standing above her, featureless in the dust cloud. A scream of surprise and fear fell from her lips before she could pull it back. The shadow did not so much as flinch at the scream, eyes blinking slowly as the woman curled about the child to protect him from this…_thing_. Two more shadows began to extend away from its back as it regarded her calmly, its inhuman eyes still blinking…their glow cutting through the unsettled cloud when the creature's features could not.

Rose tried to back away, only for her body to collide once more with the car. Somewhere inside her mind, she began to hope against hope that the creature with its disinterested stare would move on and leave them alone.

It was then that the Titan's lost glaive cut through the dust into the air before the woman and child.

It swung up towards them.

Rose gave a shriek, trying in vain to shield the toddler with her body hiding her eyes in his hair. She could not watch.

She waited for the pain.

She waited for the scream.

What she got was the clang and shriek of metal tearing. A roar of something in great pain.

Shaking, she looked up to find the flat part of the blade a mere inch from her face. The sharp edge and point were buried into the car's driver side door. The thing had missed, somehow. So close it was unimaginable that it could have missed. Morbidly curious, Rose turned her head back to see what had happened.

The shadow stood closer. Not an it, but a girl. A teenager in a black jacket with a red dragon swirled around the upper part of its back. The glaive was held at an angle, the part buried in the car being uses as leverage as the other end jutted out into the dust. A far bigger shadow leaned into that bladed end…something black and smelling of rotten fruit and human excrement fell to the ruined ground in congealed gelatinous globs. The shadow…the true _**It**_…had an eye that glowed as the girl's had. They were filled with hate. The hate flared when the teenager growl inhumanly up at him. Rose could not understand what she was saying…but she could hear the amused taunt hidden in it.

A claw reared up in the dark and cut through the haze to slash once at the girl's face. Judging by the manner the girl's head snapped to the side, it had managed to make at least brief contact. But the glaive was keeping it too far, less it wished to impale itself further. Hand gripping the shaft of the weapon even as the force of its strike knocked her back, the teenager was now looking at the mother and son. Three gashes already leaking ribbons of blood ripped at an angle over her forehead and the bridge of her nose…her eyes only spared gouging by the goggle like glasses. Her face changed seeing them…it grew angry.

"Run, you idiot," she hissed lowly, her lips curling back enough to see her fangs.

Rose did not need to be told twice.

"…Look, Maggot…look how easily the vermin leave you to your fate," a dry chuckle clicked out from above Ryce's head. Her eyes narrowed as she turned back, the torn flesh on her face knitting just enough to staunch the blood flow. Conserve. Subconsciously, she slid her right foot back, avoiding another glop of her brother's blood as it hit the ground with a wet smack.

"M'not goin' to expect a woman carryin' her young to protect me, Brother."

"And yet…you accept that they expect it of _**you.**_ You have bowed to the virus as a servant…you are even lower than a Maggot now," he hissed, eyes flaring wide in the dust, "They will have your head for this."

Ryce raised and eyebrow, "If that's what dad wants? Fine. M'done cowerin' to him."

A laugh ripped out of him and a clawed hand ripped out of the dust cloud. It gripped the shaft of the weapon beside her own, and PULLED. A wet sucking came out of the dust with his laugh as he pulled himself down the bladed weapon, his blank face rearing into view, birthed from it like some twisted terrible infant.

"You lie," He said twistedly. "Your fear, I can smell it so strongly now," Ryce's brother inhaled deeply through no nostrils moved…or even appeared. "I have missed the scent so."

"M'afriad, you numb shit," she admitted coldly, "M'afraid that you aren't goin' to suffer quite enough b'fore the Titans ram your limbs down your throat and your horns up your arse."

"You are so confident in them! Such a brave little Maggot. "

A cruel smile curled up Ryce's lips as she jerked forward, her own face rising up into his defiantly, "If m'still a maggot for lettin' go of m'fear what does that make you, _momma's __boy?_"

There was nothing blank about those features now. Incoherent hate and rage and fury ripped across them. But under it all Ryce saw it. She got what she craved and wanted. _**Fear. **_ Black simple naked _**FEAR**_—the first emotion that fake face had ever gotten perfectly. His movements stilled…paralyzed with it.

"Ryce?"

She could hear them calling out to her. Her family. Her Titans. Both brother and sister's eyes jerked to the side at the sound of the approach. D'xias was first to turn back, that moment of control being lost flitting away as if it never was. Another not smile had seeped back into his face as he pulled back, the wet suck of him pulling off the glaive's blade fading along with the sound that made it.

"Tick Tock, Alaryce," he hissed and then was swallowed by the dust.

Ryce stared at the space in which his head once hung, swallowing dryly. Tick tock was right. Time was already winding down. Her eyes darted down to her arm as she shifted the sleeve of her jacket up. Ninety and change left until the whole mess went completely FUBAR. The Titan's voices were picking up now, they were close. Carefully shifting her weight she began to make her way towards the voices. It was slow and stumble filled going though, the dust clouds distorting her vision and even the way the Titans voices were carrying. With a growl of frustration, she felt the burning itch trail up her back as her wings returned. Arching them up high above her head and away from her back she paused, before they flapped forward in an even stroke. The gust sent the grit and dust billowing outward before her. Another pump heightened her visibility all the more and made breathing suddenly far less chore.

Wings poised back for one final gust, she barely caught the glimpse of the blue ionic blast rocketing her way. With a strangled yelp she dodged to the side, wings snapping shut and tight against her in a shield. The canon's blast hit the car behind her with a crunching caving in the door completely. Turning back to raise a call in the confusion, she found her eyes focus on the blinking detonator light of a too well aimed birdarang heading her way. Even as she was pushing back she knew there was no way to move in time.

A red and grey blur…someone's grip grappled about her arm as the glaive was plucked out of her hand. By the time she had recognized Scalpel, he had placed himself between her body and the projectile bomb and was swinging the glaive around with ease. The flat side of the weapon connected with the birdarang, like a baseball to a bat and sent in flying into a chunk of street jutting up from the ground. The debris never stood a chance exploding in a flash of heat and scattering asphalt.

"Trigger happy lunatics, you are shooting at the wrong angel!" Nigel yelled back.

"Ryce?" Cyborg's face, the lower half if his face covered in a ventilator that had risen up from his chest plate. His eyes trailed away to the ruined car beside her and widened in dismay, "I almost shot you."

Ryce…found herself chuckling, "Your grasp on the situation is startling', Vi-Cyborg."

"Why didn't you answer?" Robin asked jumping down from an outcropping piece of street, his own face half obscured in a mask to aid his breathing in all the dust, "We were calling out to you."

Ryce was not given time to answer before a shot of white came flying out from behind Robin. Her eyes widened even as she heard Tim calling back, "Savior! It's Ryce! Stand down!"

The Shimmer did not pause, a hand forming at its end and rounding about Ryce only to cuff her upside the back of her head hard. It wasted no time coming back around to plaster itself over her nose and mouth in an air tight seal. For the briefest of seconds, Ryce felt that fear that her brothers and father had tried to instill in her, attempt to bubble up to the surface. Images of her air being cut off in a single well placed mass of shimmer trembled through her mind. For one single moment, she almost felt as if he had done just that. But that was silly…because of course she could breath. In fact, she could breathe far easier now than a few seconds prior, the shimmer strands laced into a tightly woven mask to keep out the dust. She glances up, shame in her eyes, to see Savior emerge into sight, his own face being protected by the same sort of self made mask.

"I know it is. No one else is stupid enough to go skipping through a debris cloud that is probably fifty percent asbestos when they have ASTHMA," his voice muffled – though clearly annoyed – sounding through his mask.

His annoyance was short lived…replaced instead by confusion when the small girl came forward and hugged him. It was grossly inappropriate timing, and once the surprise faded from his face, he was clearly about to remind her of the worldwide, holocaustic threat looming over their heads. She was already pulling away though, that shame still burning in her eyes intensely.

"M'an asshole," she whispered, "And m'sorry. I…I let them into my head."

She turned to the others, "I can never be sorry enough for this. You lot…well…you have no reason to believe that I am…and if you do, you have no reason to accept my apology. I know that. M'gonna try my damn hardest to prove it t'ya though."

"You came," Raven's voice came from her right as the empath rose up from the glowing black circle forming by her feet, "You are here at…unspeakable consequence to yourself…it was stupid, Ryce. It was stupid and it is more than enough proof in my eyes."

Raven did not need her natural – and yet still blocked by Ryce – empathy to know the girl was smiling behind the shimmer made ventilator covering her face. But there was no time for that was there. She realized this even as Tim cleared his throat behind her.

"Ryce, as glad as I am to see you…we need to keep moving. Raven could you get us out of th-"

"Already happening, Robin," the half-demon nodded as the assembled group sank into the glowing black teleport beneath their feet. When the world reformed around them, they were looking at the clouds of dust and the debris their dissipation was slowly revealing. Masks were removed, but Ryce's eyes were darting about in search. Noel caught the confused look and answered her unasked question.

"The others are hunting down the drones. Is there anything else you know that could help us with these things, Ryce?" he asked

Ryce nodded, "You gotta remember what they were in life…they may be mostly him now, but they still have echoes of what they were in them. They gravitate towards their host's habitat and instincts. Use what they were against them."

Cyborg listened carefully, "So look through the alleys and in dark corners for our friend the collapsing, cracking goat-cat?"

"Exactly," Ryce replied turning to him, "And the roach-"

"THAT was a cockroach?" Scalpel interrupted his eyes widening a bit, "It was larger than a city bus."

"Yeah and judging from the shots I blasted into its hide, it's more armored than a war tank," Cyborg frowned deeply.

"Aye…D'xias has a pattern and he tends to stick with it. A damage drone…an aerial or naval depending on the locale…and a tank tha's hell takin' down," Ryce chimed in darkly, "The roach will stick to the sewers and underground. S'a burrower."

Robin glanced down to his belt, "You get that, Terra?"

"Oh yea," the blond Titan's voice chimed up from his COM sounding eager, "I'll show the overgrown bug some REAL tunneling skills."

"Good. Cyborg, I want you scanning the underground. The roach is going to be the easiest to find and the hardest to take down. You and Scalpel lend Gauntlet and Terra a hand with that," Robin ordered, "If Morgue hails you with the location of the aerial drone, Cyborg, break off and aid her."

"Exterminator duty and then target practice. Ten-Four, Bird Boy," Cyborg said as Nigel gave a nod. The two turned and took off without another word.

Robin did not watch them go for long before he had turned back to the remaining two Titans and Ryce. In his concentration he managed to miss the quietly contemplative look on the youngest face. His eyes locked with his remaining teammates as he continued, "That leaves us. Savior, I need your eyes up in the sky with Morgue. Raven and I will begin the search for D'xias."

"…no…" Ryce said quietly, her voice cracking.

If Tim heard – and Ryce doubted he did – he gave no indication, "We will attempt to distract and exhausted him as best we can until the drones are neutralized-"

Her voice was stronger this time, "No."

The masked man paused and turned back to look at her in confusion. Ryce wet her lips nervously, her eyes darting once more to his COM. When she spoke it was in a tone almost too soft and quiet for any of them to hear, "Turn it off."

For a moment, she wondered if he would refuse. Worse yet, she wondered if he would ask why, alerting the others to what she knew they would clearly object to. In the end, despite the curious and uncertain look on his face, Robin's hand traveled down to his belt, clicking the transmitter to mute.

Ryce nodded, taking a deep breath, "I need you to trust me."

Robin merely nodded, giving no answer to whether he did or not.

"If you want to win this…you have to take the drones out NOW. Savior and Raven BOTH need to be on the bird. Robin, you need to go for the cat."

"We cannot just leave your brother unopposed, Ryce," Raven cut in, "D'xias has shown he has no qualms with bringing civilians into the battle. The child was lucky, but there is no guarantee that others will find the same luck if he targets them."

"Not a question of _**if**_," Ryce shrugged, "He will target them to pull you away from the battle. If you want to win this you need to be willin' to take a risk and make a sacrifice."

Tim's eyes narrowed in anger behind his mask, "Are you suggesting that we turn a blind eye to civilian life and let him KILL them? That's something I'd expect to hear from your father Ryce but never you."

"Not at all," Ryce said calmly, "What m'sayin' is that you will be wastin' your time chasin' after him. S'what he wants and expects. You need to throw the great big brat a curve ball so he doesn't _**want**_to go for the civilians."

Regarding her in confusion, Tim's head tilted to one side. He did not need to 'get it' though. If Noel's incredulous expression was any indication, he already had.

"Absolutely NOT," he barked, "Have you lost what little mind you have!"

"S'the only way, Savior. It will keep him from focused!"

"It will keep him focused and you DEAD!"

"Well, I guess I'll talk less then," she rolled her eyes.

"Stop being stupid for once in your damned life and think, Ryce!" Noel growled out before Robin cut in.

"Woah! We are wasting time here! What are you two talking about?"

Savior glared down at the younger girl fro only a moment before turning back to the former Boy Wonder, "She's suggesting she confront him ALONE."

"That is out of the question," Robin said dismissively.

"Oh for Christ's sake, both of you stop being STUPID," Ryce snapped.

"All three of you! Shut. Up." Raven's voice cut through them in a chilly toneless command. Eyes glowing under her hood she stared at them for a moment before they returned to their violet state. A moment's silence passed. Then two. Her gaze came to rest on Ryce, to meet her stare unwavering. Finally, she sighed in defeat shaking her head.

"Ryce is right," she said quietly.

"Raven, that thing can kill her easily!" Noel stared at her in open shock.

"Of course he could. But he won't," she said ignoring her boyfriend's shocked look as she turned back to Ryce, "Because in the end…this all comes back to her. The point and purpose of the whole mess…is Ryce. It isn't pretty to hear, but it is the truth of the matter. Every last action D'xias undertakes is for the soul purpose of his hate for Ryce and causing her as much pain as possible. If he kills her…then the game is over. That's what you mean isn't it, Ryce?"

Ryce smirked at her, and there was something so simple and sad to it, "Ding ding ding…you're goin' to have to wait til we get home, though. Appears m'all out of grand prizes."

The trio watching her remained quiet. Already, Ryce could see that she had gotten through their doubt…and even the denial of the truth was not strong enough to keep them from accepting it. Robin's gaze rested on her, his face as neutral as the mask hiding his eyes. Next to him, Savior stood by, his jaw clenched as if to physically restrain himself from saying what he truly thought of this situation.

"…if you need back up. You call," Robin finally managed,

"Alright."

His brow furrowed at that and he took a step forward, now looking down at her, "No. Not 'alright.' If you need back up…You. Will. Call. It is an order. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Robin," she said looking up to meet his masked eyes.

"Yes, what?" Noel snapped, Shimmer stands already creeping out of his hands as they prepared to leave.

"Yes, I understand I will call if I need backup," Ryce nodded stiffly.

It was all the promise they had time for. Robin spared not another word, sprinting off and leaping his way up unto a fire escape. In a few swift movements, he was gone from sight, taking to the roof tops to seek out the elusive cat. Savior gave only a brief pause, clearly still against this decision before he was jerked up and into the air, launching himself into the concrete jungle of the city. And then there were two. Angel and Demon.

"We end as we started," Ryce smiled, her voice quiet, "Me with my secrets…and you keepin' you mouth shut. Then again…I guess we're both keepin' mouth shuts and secrets close now."

Raven frowned back at that smile, her brow furrowing in suspicion. Ryce only laughed, "S'not gonna be pretty when he finds out…what Ricky did that is. Not goin' to be pretty when any of them find out. Oh, don't worry…s'not my place to tell them. S'not my business. Even if it was. S'your truth to hold or play."

"…was it Adam, then? Did he tell you?"

Ryce shook her head, "No. And the source doesn't matter at this point in time. What matters is you and I both have battles to fight right now and neither of us seem to be movin'."

A single step brought Raven forward, closer to the younger blond as she took a nearly synchronized step back, "If you ask. I will help. You do not have to face this alone, Alaryce."

Ryce's eye twinkled with a fond and yet somehow sad glimmer behind her glasses, "I know you would…and you know I do. Don't worry 'bout me, Rae."

There was…only one more question to be asked. Raven voiced it without hesitation, "Why are you here?"

A wide, genuinely happy smile broke out over Ryce's face even as Raven began to levitate upwards. There was no madness on Ryce' face. There was no faux bravado and defiance…and most of all there was no fear. A peace stole over the girl as she chuckled lowly at the demon's question.

"Oh Raven, we're all beyond why …you know that. But jus' for kicks? Because not one of you ever even thought to ask me to be. Because m'already in it and if m'goin?' M'goin' out with a bang. Because you know as well as I do."

Ryce let out a sigh, "M'already dead."

A heavy silence sank over them in the dark, the poisoned clouds oblivious to them churning carelessly above. The ground beneath their feet growled lowly, as something distant ripped through them. Demon above and Angel below regarded one another. Raven's eyes glowed softly from beneath her hood.

"We are going to win this."

"I know you will."

"We are not going to let your father's council take you."

"Ok." Ryce simply smiled as Raven turned about and went to hunt.

Watching her go, Ryce was surprised by the calmness that stole over her. There was no panic at the sudden quiet…no dread creeping into her as her isolation finally sank in. It settled – that solitude and loneliness – like a blanket over her shoulders. Oddly warm and comfortable. An old friend, whose absence you had yet to notice, returning…only for you to realize how much you really did welcome and perhaps even miss them.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For thou art with me."

She was not afraid. It was not fear or a plea for strength that moved her lips in prayer. It was an odd thing, praying when you were the child of a god. Queer to imagine just who it was that was tuning in. No longer entertained was the idea of it being her father…the thought of garnering his favor or his protection almost laughable in its absurdity. Perhaps it was a prayer to that which she barely knew and usually did not even like. A child of a god though she was, there were so many things that lived just beyond her. The answers of 'what' and 'who' to the one who pulled the strings behind her father and even his own boss…she had grasped them long ago. She was like Raven here, though. She had never gotten to the 'why.' Maybe there was nothing…maybe she was right at the root of it and they were beyond that 'why.'

"Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."

So why bother with the quiet whispering of prayer at all? Because in the end, as welcome as the silence was…she welcomed filling it all the more. Her smile held strong…borrowing a calming verse for she was too tired to imagine her own, as her feet carried her over the debris and ruined earth.

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever…"

And then, he was there. Seated calmly upon the hood of an overturned car, almost waiting for her to be done.

For the first time, the fake face—the fake, poorly-executed humanity—slowly bleed away from him: D'xias saw no need for it with her. He wanted her to see.

The true face was not. Without the mask, all that remained was an almost smooth, bare surface. An empty head with nothing to identify it. That was D'xias reality as it had always been to Ryce.

The faceless face…the outside come in…the 'Wrong' thing just 'stared' at her impassively and patiently. Listening and waiting, he regarded his little sister. She came upon him and rage and hate flooded her heart. All she had lost…it all came back to him. Each of the faces frozen in her jacket pocket, slashed cruelly away by the hands dangling at his side. She finished her prayer with a coldly, poisonous growl.

"…because I carry a big stick and m'the meanest mother fucker in the valley…this ends now, Dox."

Standing, his hooves crushing the muffler and part of the car's under carriage beneath him, D'xias began to clap slowly.

A thin line bloomed over his neck, like a piece of plastic surfacing after being held underwater. The line spread, in a downwards, curved angle until it reached his chest. And then… it opened, rows of sharp teeth gleaming within it, in a terrible upside down grin.

Ryce recognized it as D'xias' true mouth.

"What a charmed speech you give, little Ali," the same soft voice came from that mouth, smooth as conversational even as the mouth itself did not remain stationary: It glided along his body lazily, like floating on the sea. "What a song and dance you orchestrate. Too cowardly to tell those who sign your death away what it is you do," another smaller line bloomed on his shoulder, opening to reveal a glowing orange eye…an eye with a vertical pupil. The eye of a goat. "My only hope is they remain long enough so that I may see their faces when the Council brings the axe down upon your he-"

His eye did not widen or react in any way until several seconds after he had jerked away. A small sliver of skin parted over his left cheek, black, viscous liquid given only a second to attempt escape before the sliced flesh sealed again. Clapping ceased, D'xias turned his head back, the spines embedded into the wood of a telephone poll behind him. His orange stare narrowed on the teenager before him, as her tail flicked and lashed in the air behind her.

Ryce lifted her hands, "You talk too much."

D'xias…agreed. And the tendrils along his back flew for her.

* * *

"Robin, come in," Raven's calm voice called out through the COM.

"Any sight of the pigeon…thing?" he answered.

"Negative, but if the claw marks I am seeing on these high-rises are any indication, I am on the right path. Savior, any news from you?"

Tim and Raven, blocks apart, waited to hear the white haired meta's response. Seconds ticked by, and the line remained quiet. Apprehension settled over both…and a fear of the unknown was going to be quick to follow. About to hail Noel again, relief came when the line crackled to life.

"I'm going back," Savior answered.

"Savior," Robin tried to start placatingly.

"No, Robin. You have to be out of your god damned head to think we should be leaving her alone with that thing."

"Leaving who with what thing?" Gauntlet's voice joined in. Robin silently cursed to himself. The blond Titan was one of the LAST people he wanted to be brought into this. He had to get him off the frequency before…

"TIM! What the fuck!" Victor beat him to the punch, "You left Ryce ALONE?"

"You WHAT!" Gauntlet barked down the line, sounding for a rare moment legitimately angry.

"Cyborg, no names on the COM! I'm heading back," Savior growled out.

"Robin, why would you allow this? She will be greatly harmed!" Starfire was joining in on the chastising now. Tim could feel his teeth gritting as his jaw clenched. More voices were calling out on the COM now, all the same expressions of disgusted and dismay at his decision. They were talking over him. But most important, they were not watching and looking for their respective drones.

Suddenly, the line shrieked with static and feedback cutting off their increasingly louder admonishments. By the time it cleared a new voice had joined in…hissing in a loud whisper as if she was afraid of being overheard.

"Hey, could y'all shut the fuck up b'fore you get me killed? 'Kay? Thanks," Ryce growled.

"Ryce? Ryce, I want you to find a place and hide, alright? We're coming to get you," Cyborg instructed. Her response was a flippant and disgusted snort.

"Well if you like the idea of your world bein' wiped from existence," she sighed, "By all means go right ahead."

"Ryce," Noel tried to cut in.

Ryce was having none of it though, "Noel? Shut. Up. Alright? In fact…all of you shut up. First of all, I _**am**_ hidin'. And runnin'. The longer you all babble, on the less time you have to re-kill those things and the MORE time m'stuck playin' keep away with my idiot brother. I need you all to stop worryin' cause I think I proved I can hold my own."

"Ryce, running over two robbers with a police car does not prove that you can stand toe to toe with and Eldritch horror," Morgue sighed.

In the background there was a scraping sound…a clang of a fence, "Don't worry…Dox, doesn't have toes."

A snort of nervous laughter came out from one of the Titans over the line though it was impossible to tell who. The relief that was seeping into her words signaled that this levity had been the goal all along, "You guys do your part and I'll do mine. I can handle him. So long as he is huntin' me, he isn't interferin' with you guys or harmin' civilians."

Silence fell over them. No one seemed ready to admit that their youngest friend was right. No one wanted to be the first after Robin to say that they were going to leave Ryce to whatever fate D'xias had crafted for her should he catch up. In the end though, no one had to say anything. Somewhere on the south side near the marine they ground gave a brief shake, before exploding upwards in a deadly rain of concrete and asphalt. The Roach shook debris and dirt from his eyeless head, a mouth of tentacles and fangs dripping with that viscous black dropping open to let out a vibrating bray. Around the length of a football field away, Terra gripped unto her rock perch, dodging the remaining pieces of the street.

"Big Bug spotted!" she yelled out.

"Gauntlet, Cyborg, and Scalpel. Move to Terra's location!" Robin ordered.

"Already on the way!" Scalpel reported

Robin nodded out of reflex though the person down the COM line had no way of seeing that as he continued on, "Okay, that's one down, three more to find. Savior I'm going to need you at the west of-"

Before the masked man could finish his thought though, a new voice crackled out on the line interrupting whatever it was he was about to say, "Ah. Tim, great, exactly who I needed. I can tell by your rushed, serious and no-nonsense tone that this is the perfect time to ask something that has been bugging me for a while. What, exactly, is the purpose of the bald eagle? Is it to make people comfortable with being bald? Consider you answer well while I can get a cup of coffee and some fresh moonbread from the nice coffee shop conveniently situated right beneath the funnel of doom and horror spiraling over the city. Ah, I just love quaint little tourist attractions like that," the voice paused then, allowing Robin to recuperate before it started again. "Wait…there's something off about what I've just said but I don…Oh…right, the badger…can't forget the badger. Do coffee shops sell badgers? Is there word on that yet?"

Tim quickly recovered from the distinct sensation of his brain dying a little, and forgot everything he had just heard from the flippant and relaxed tone that had suddenly joined into their frequency, "Metatron? We have angel problems…care to lend a hand?"

He was actually forced to wait for a few seconds while he heard the traveler order his drink (and what the hell kind of coffee shop is this that's _still _open at a time like this?, he wondered) "…I'm rather attached to my hands at the moment, Robin," Metatron replied distractedly, "I've named them and everything. Speaking of things I've named…has anyone seen my munchkin, Alaryce Fionnabhair Gallagher?"

"She's busy distra-" Cyborg started in his report to the streaky haired demon before pausing, "…what's her middle name?"

"Adam…remember when you promised to keep that to yourself?" chimed in a decidedly out of breath and yet very aggrieved Ryce.

"And we all know what a mistake that was," Metatron replied instantly. "So, why do you sound like you've done something outrageously stupid to land yourself in incredible danger, like, for example, offering to lead an Eldritch horror in a merry chase around the city to keep it distracted in order to stop a massive world-erasure from occurring through vaguely defined means? By the infliction of your 'keep', I'm going to guess it was a…brother of some sort?"

Rolling his eyes and springing from the rooftop on which he had been keeping watch from, Robin spoke sharply into the yellow receiver, trying in vain to not wonder how he knew, "Met, focus! Can you head over to the east end of downtown? We're looking for a large undead cat."

"Nope."

"What do you mean nope!" Noel yelled somewhere.

"You really don't want me to get into this philosophical discussion, Noel. Not without a few pegs of beer and a willingness to accept the fact that creation was started by a bead-obsessed slacker with a penchant for Sweet Transvestites."

"….why exactly do we let him keep going when we are in the middle of a crisis?" Gauntlet sighed as he made his way towards the towering insect he now had in sight.

Metatron seemed to be ignoring him though, prattling on as if it was business as usual, "Plus there's also this interesting bird-goat thing…with tentacles! It's pawing through the trash in front of me…I think I'll throw pennies at it."

"Met! That's one of the drone. Raven, Savior, and Morgue! You three-" Robin started only for Sophie's voice to cut in.

"Heading to his location now, Robin. You just focus on finding Puss in Hooves!"

Robin flipped down from the roof onto a closed dumpster, eyes scanning the alley. But that was not completely right. He was scanning the building sides which made the wall of said alley. Eyeing the gashes clawed into the brick and stone. They were fresh, an occasionally piece breaking loose to fall to the ground below. A yowl…sounding more like the roar of a jungle cat crossed with the bray of a goat echoed on ahead. With a flick of his wrist he had his staff in hand, plunging further into the yawning mouth of the alley.

* * *

Ryce could not help but smile when she placed the COM back into her pocket. Hearing that voice, feeling the warm comfort that settled over her heart. A bloody patch marred her torn pants as she clamored her way over the fence, the cut her brother had left their long since healed. Slipping away had been easier that she had thought it would be. A dodge and a duck – which she had almost made unscathed if not for that bloody stain – and he had been on top of her, bearing down with his grotesque true face, eyes and mouth swarming around it like cockroaches. Thrusting her arm forward, palm-up, she flicked her hand back. D'xias did not even have time to jerk back before an orange mist came spraying out of her jacket, straight into both of those eyes.

There was the briefest of moments where D'xias simply paused and blinked down at her, the orange mist staining the mottle purple skin of his chin and throat—where the eyes currently were. His confusion was clear and only furthered when she had smiled.

"Dox? I'd like to introduce you bear mace, brah."

And then it took affect. Several blocks away she could still hear the goaten creature howling and thrashing, his garbled snarls promising the most hateful and vicious ends to Ryce when he found her. Not that he had not been promising all that to her and more earlier. Ryce chuckled as she jumped down from the fence and began to run again. Funny as it had been though…she had to find a place to duck down. For the time being, between two cars in the parking lot she found herself in would have to do. Head low she snapped open a pocket on the inside of her jacket, close to her stomach.

She tried not to imagine what the others would say if they knew…tried not to imagine what SHE would do if her brief Google search had yielded less than accurate results. Out from her pocket she pulled a cloth entrapment, her wrist twitching to flip open the top. There were four of them. Using her mouth to hold one, she placed the remaining three back into the pocket before resealing it. The other hand was needed after all to roll up her sleeve. From mouth to hand it went, and then to rest on her thigh as she tightened a band on her arm with…movements that were far to fluid.

It had been a long time since New York…a long time since Kyle had found her trembling in an alley…a long time since he had stopped doing this for her and showed her how to herself. She found soon enough though that it was like riding a bike. You never forget how to tie a tourniquet and find a vein. Opening and closing her hand, she watched as a they came into view. The syringe on her thigh felt…so heavy.

It felt even heavier in her hand. The needle was hot against her skin before puncture. When the flesh and vein gave way under the sharp point Ryce stomach rolled in vague nausea. And of all the things she was not thinking of? Top of the list was that she did not think about her quick stop to the Med bay to "borrow" from Nigel. Her mind carefully avoiding the idea that she misjudged or misread the syringes and adrenaline she was filling them with as she watched the cc's go up, as she pulled the plunger back. Now, she was pressing it down, sending the adrenaline flying into her blood.

Before standing, Ryce loosened the tourniquet. Her heart thudded in her chest…her blood already pumping harshly. She needed the strength…the energy. She would apologize later. The chemical roared through her blood stream like fire, her eyes sharpening and the world coming into a tunnel like focus. The irises of her eyes flattened into slits.

Somewhere behind her she could hear him shrieking out her name…somewhere close. As the adrenaline flooded her system she began to run, the ground flying under her feet. Else where a plume of fire and heat shot up at a hunched over avian monster…a yellow spike rockets up from the street beside a stone stalagmite to gore at a plated roach larger than a elephant…and a masked man stood and stares down a road kill cat gone panther come to life.

There was no command to "Go" needed.

* * *

_Make no apology  
__**It's Death or Victory**__  
On my authority  
Crash and burn  
Young and loaded ~ Na Na Na, MCR_


	16. Chapter 16

_**Sing** it out, Boy, they're gonna sell what tomorrow needs  
**Sing** it out, Girl, they're gonna kill what tomorrow brings  
You've got to **make a choice**, If the music drowns you out.  
And **raise your voice**, every single time **they try and shut your mouth** ~** MCR**; SING_

* * *

_It was giggling at him. Looking up at him – through him – past the tattered flesh that had been its eyelids._

"…_what…did you do to her?"_

"…_I…don't know…"_

_Xavius stared at it laying on the floor. Minutes ago he had passed his father in the hall...passed him as he dragged the gibbering and screaming mess of flesh that the girl had become in his wake. Xavius had turned his head…his nose crinkling at the smell of gun powder, blood, and the synthetic poison the young teenager had pumped into her veins. He turned his nose up at the smell of that human – Kyle, his brain filed away uselessly – burned and forced into her flesh whether she had wanted it or not. That smell and a broken wrist…it had all been minutes ago._

"_Give her two weeks to heal. She is in your care, now. You will watch her," Azrael murmured blankly, like a man coming out of a dream, "Keep her in your sight…and get her out of mine."_

"_**She****…ssss…eees….yo…ouuuuu…****taAAAss...tes…****t'****grapes****," **it purred at the archangel in a hitching giggle that opened into a silent hissing scream. Its hands – claws – came up to pull at her lips and teeth, reducing them swiftly to ribbons of flesh, groaning and shuddering, "**Oh God….Oh god s'FOVEVER…"**_

_Azrael wasted no glance even as his blood-splattered boot stepped carelessly down on that__ old__ broken wrist. Minutes…Xavius' mind had seized on that thought. He had only given them a few __**minutes**__. She had just started screaming behind his father's office door _seconds_ ago. It was not enough time…not enough time for this. Not enough time for her to become something that was lazily lifting its hand to pluck out an eye with the air of someone dusting away an eyelash. The same yellowing, blue eye that was watching him…and it smiled._

"_**You are goin' t'fail**."_

_Then it began to giggle…and scream…and giggle…he paused its hand, lifting its jerking form their father's floor. It was in his charge now; the next few weeks would be spent returning it to a she, to a sane being. Weeks that would bleed that timeless look from its eyes and replace them with a memoryless bliss. The next few years…would return its words to him._

* * *

Xavius looked down at his sister's running form, tracing the trails and tunnel like flight she weaved through the city streets. Azrael watched, smiling, always smiling. Death just watched. For a moment, he almost asked the man-thing if he had heard what it had said that day and had known what it had known.

In the end, he turned back to watch, too.

* * *

The dank, dark alley filled with noise as the trisected beak gobbled ravenously into the trash and rot of the city. What it could not devour was shredded by hooves and the claw-tipped mid-parts of its wings, with which it dragged itself along.

The banquet was a messy affair, even more when every one of its clunky movements caused ichor and worms to fall out of the creature's plumage, scurrying into the pavement and forgotten by a host much more interested in diving further into the filth. The tiny, gleaming projectiles that would occasionally strike its back were also ignored, though that didn't deter their thrower.

Adam Matthews was perched on the roof of the building adjacent to the alley, his calm, golden eyes watching the feast, perhaps wondering if it was time to throw another of the many pennies twirling lazily in his fingers. The notion was forgotten when his ears caught the rush of wind and he looked up to see a swirling darkness receding before him, leaving behind pair of friendly faces.

"Adam," Raven greeted, while Morgue looked over the edge and sucked in breath at scene. Behind her, Savior landed in a crouch, and rushed to join the group.

"Hiya," her fellow demon replied, smoothly flinging his coins once more, to similar results. "Huh. Five dollars' worth of pennies and no reaction. Half is usually enough to get the attention of even the most proud garbage-dweller."

Raven nodded as if this was crucial information, letting her eyes glow with ebony light, her power flowing over the creature.

"Anything else?" her boyfriend prompted.

"Been pestering it for a few minutes now and so far it's ignored me," Met shrugged. "It seems like the dumbest one, perfectly happy to just enjoy its food and not actively seek to harm anything. Add that to this entire area being deserted, we could just leave it be for now and focus on the more immediate threats. If it's not moving for pennies, it's not moving for anything."

The three Titans exchanged a look. "We can't afford to do that," Savior replied for the group, while Morgue took the cue and readied her weapons. "It might change or stumble into someone any second. Besides, there are groups dealing with the others anyway," he crouched, Shimmer strands moving from his feet, "we should take out all of them quickly so we can regroup and go for the big fish."

"How do we get its attention?" Morgue prompted, gun at ready.

Raven raised her hands, "We don't need to," and then she slammed them together.

The creature tensed, perhaps sensing actual danger, but its reaction was too late when the trash cans, junk and the very ground it stood on collided into it as if the nightmarish bird had suddenly developed a gravitational pull.

The Titan sorceress narrowed her eyes in satisfaction at the squawk the drone gave off before being swallowed. "We just need to crush–"

"DOWN!" Sophie cried, tackling the girl over, just in time for the hair-thin needles to harmlessly graze past them—they had been virtually invisible in the dark, much like Raven's power taking its hold.

The roar of the beast below followed, along with the crashes of the rubble being pushed aside. This time, it was angry.

"Night vision?" Metatron asked.

Sophie was breathless, helping Raven up while nodding. "Night vision. You saw it, too?"

"Heads up!" Savior roared, readying himself as the entire building shook and groaned, giving the group a minute's warning before the colossal form of the carrion bird swung itself into the roof with a great heave.

The entire building shook when it landed, rock already cracking beneath its weight, drawing nervous stares.

"Well, Raven was right, in the end, it _did _stumble into someone. Glass half-full?" Metatron mused.

Any (annoyed) answer he might have gotten was lost when the creature focused its beady, flat eyes onto Raven, somehow identifying it's attacker through a haze of stupidity, and roaring.

The sorceress' eyes widened at the ensemble of wriggling, hissing tendrils the drone had for a tongue that now faced her, and it was only instinct that drove her to wrap her cloak over herself and Sophie, porting away—a move that saved her life, as not half a second later, a thick, purple-black smog poured from the creature's maw into where they had been. It melted through the stone like hot butter.

"Acidic breath," Savior cursed.

Unfortunately, his words drew the unwanted attention of the deformed pigeon, causing it to turn towards him and Metatron, and for its corrosive breath to spew over the roof, waning the constitution before their feet.

"CRAP!" Savior lashed out with his Shimmer, makeshift fans blowing the poison away and securing him into the weakening stone. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught Metatron flipping and bouncing away from the danger, as well as his girlfriend porting back in and letting go of Sophie, in turn for the heavier girl to disappear in a flock of bats towards a nearby building. He called out to them, "We need to change the battleground! This is too unstable!"

His response came in the form of a pair of black-powered loosened debris slamming into the creature's head, the impact made it stumble, and in that cut its attack short. He nodded in thanks to Raven, readying himself for the creature's retaliation.

He noticed too late that Metatron's wild jumps and movements had caught its attention as the demon landed in the opposite, mostly untouched side of the roof. In time for the carrion bird to roar and flung itself at him.

Savior tried to cry out.

The creature dove.

Metatron looked at it.

And then it crashed into the roof, its body sliding and trampling disgustingly past the demon, growing still save for the odd twitch.

Metatron watched it go by pleasantly. "…Convincing," he declared simply—stubbornly, even.

But beyond that, no one spoke for a few seconds.

"…What?" Savior finally said to the sudden quiet, sparing a quick glance to Raven, who looked just as confused and uncertain at him, and then at Sophie, who, beyond being frozen in mid-movement of raising her sniping riffle from a roof away, looked the same.

His ally smiled at him and shrugged, calmly, "Omnincandescent."

Savior looked back at him for another second, before moving cautiously towards the bird.

Its head was gone. In its place, there was a blackened, still-smoking, stump. He was looking at a corpse.

"…The hell?" Savior asked eloquently, looking at Metatron for answers.

"Superheated the head from one second to the other," he explained. "Instant ash."

"…I did not know Morning Children could do that," Raven said quietly, landing nearby.

"They don't often explore what they can do," Metatron replied.

Another bout of silence followed.

"So…it's over?" Savior asked, feeling somewhat uncomfortable.

Metatron smiled at him strangely, and then looked over his shoulder.

"SAVIOR!" Raven called out in warning, her power already encasing him. The hero turned in time to see the previously-still creature bulging and staggering to stand…just before the rifle rounds slammed into its hide, causing the oddest, muffled squeals to come from its shaking plumage.

His thoughts were on gratitude towards Sophie when his girlfriend yanked him out of the trashing monster's reach.

However, all he could articulate was, "WHAT THE HELL? Its freakin' HEAD is gone!"

"Of _course_ it can still fight with its head gone," Metatron said good-naturedly, landing next to him. He seemed vaguely resigned even under the roar of Sophie's onslaught. "They can _ALWAYS _fight without their heads. I'd give anything for an opponent that'd have the decency of dying through conventional methods for a refreshing change, I really would. On the plus side, that certainly took care of its acidic breath."

"What sorts of things do _you _usually fight?" Savior demanded.

Metatron smiled at him and gave another of those infuriating shrugs. "Read the books," he said simply.

"_What _bo-?"

"FOCUS!" Raven called out.

Savior's eyes snapped back to the thing, watching it trash and struggle like—ironically—a chicken with its head cut off. Frustrated as it was by Morgue's constant, clinical assault, but unable to do anything but throw a tantrum, he realized it could no longer see, hear, or even smell where its attacker was, and, as Metatron had said, could not even use its miasma in an attempt to fend it off. It was, in effect, helpless against them so long as they kept their distance.

Well, that wasn't entirely true either, as its trashing brought problems of their own: It was a miracle the building had held this long, but it wasn't one that he was willing to bet would remain that way.

When it suddenly stopped, Savior should have been relieved. Instead, he tensed.

"SCATTER!"

And they did, just as the pine-needle-shaped projectiles erupted from its plumage, and going everywhere. Savior had suspected it was coming, as they had seen it use that attack before, in the shroud of darkness. It had been something Metatron's tactic had not neutralized.

It was also revealed to be a distraction, as the bird used the cease-fire to clumsily move towards the edge of the building and take flight, leaving it collapsing on the heroes.

"No!" Raven said, flying out of the despondent rubble with Metatron on tow. "We can't let it get away. Savi…vior…" She looked around, and then at her carryon, "where's Savior?"

Metatron swung from her hold into a nearby wall, digging his claws in. "There's no answer to that question that will make you happy."

Raven was about to reply when her COM sparked to life, "Raven!" Morgue's voice came through. "Savior's on the bird!"

"That's certainly not it," Metatron noted. "Good try, though."

"WHAT?" Raven cried.

Miles above, Savior was seriously reconsidering his fondness for flying as he held on to the creature for dear life. Another thing it still had was a sense of feel, and it made it buckle and twist with its gargantuan wings in an effort to shake him. Perhaps jumping on it when it took flight had not been the best idea, but there was little else he could have done at the time.

The Shimmer dug and constricted around the carrion in a way that it would have choked any living creature. As it was, it only made it struggle more, before it tensed.

Savior's stomach sank. "Damn."

_BANG!_

The bird's entire body shook and it faux-roared again under the sudden strike, and its rider breathed a sigh of relief, reminding himself to once again thank Sophie, this time for keeping him from becoming a pincushion.

The assault continued—and Sophie was a hell of a markswoman—but Savior knew from experience that it would only be a matter of time before the drone simply ignored it and attacked regardless. He needed to bring the fight back to his teammates, and fast.

Quickly, Shimmer strands flew out and wrapped around its wings. Once secure enough, he had the other lines already out move to reinforce them, and once he was satisfied with that, he tugged.

_CRACK!_

Savior grinned as he clipped the thing's wings. "Gotcha, you son of a b—ACCKKKK!"

The creature swerved down with its own 'roar', unable to stay airborne but fighting it. The white-clad titan had no choice but to steer it as best he could towards the street, but he knew it would be a rough landing if he didn't think of something quickly.

Luckily, as the darkness enveloped him, he didn't have to.

"LET'S GO!" cried his significant other.

Savior nodded, pausing to turn his strands into bladed lines that sliced cleanly through the wings, sending them spiraling on their own to the ground. "Now!"

For the briefest of seconds, complete darkness, along with the sensation of rushed movement.

Then the dark morning and city returned, and Savior found himself in the street, just in time to witness the devastating crash of the carrion abomination several yards ahead. The impact shook the streets and Savior sighed, relieved to not have to go through that. The two wings that landed nearby were barely afterthoughts.

Until golden fire engulfed them.

"And that took care of the flight," Metatron said happily, landing by them. He was followed by a flock of bats that reformed into the currently, thickly-hour-glass form of Morgue.

She was frowning. "You think it's not down yet?"

"Even if it's not," Savior interrupted, standing, "it can't escape anymore, and in its condition, it can't even fight back if we keep our distance. All we need to do is stick to ranged attacks only."

"Almost makes you feel bad for the poor little guy," Metatron mused happily, watching the drone shift slowly, evidently still around as predicted, "it's so helpless right now, and all it wanted was to eat. Is HE the monster? Or are WE?" the carrion 'roared' then, sending needles everywhere, yet missing the titans by a wide margin. "Well, I suppose that answers that."

There was a brief pulse of warmth and a spark in Metatron's eyes, followed by a gentle, even release of golden steam from all the pores in his skin. "Shall we?"

With Savior readying his Shimmer blades, Raven engulfing all the needles in black power, and Morgue readying her weapon…

The creature did not last.

* * *

"…So that's it," Cyborg breathed quietly, unable to keep the disgusted twinge of awe from his voice.

The creature was where Terra had said, and beyond the wriggling from the tentacles, it didn't seem to be moving. But those flailing appendages snapped and cracked, grabbed hold of concrete, dirt and rock, sucking it in and breaking it down.

Not for the first time, the heroes were glad the city had been evacuated in time.

"Unless there's some other building-sized tentacle-roach slugging around the city," Gauntlet agreed.

"Please, guys, we're pressed for time," Scalpel reminded them before they got started. "Shall we?" And without waiting for a reply, he moved to an attack position.

"At the very least it won't be hard to hit," Terra nodded as she rushed forward on her rock.

"…Yeah but how many will it take?" Cyborg muttered, his arm shifting, his cannon humming.

Careful aim not an issue, Cyborg concerned himself considering the target's massive size by channeling all efforts usually put on calculations into sheer force, firing wildly into the roach's side, sonic bursts of blue thundering down its hide.

The reaction from the drone was underwhelming as all it did was pause its movements for a few seconds during which Victor had to wonder what was going on in the insectoid's mind. In the end, it didn't matter, the cyborg clenched his teeth in frustration and redoubled his efforts and he gave a yell of conviction-turned-surprise, as the creature finally reacted by having its armored plated side rushing towards him. The Titan barely had time to register the impossibly fast movement before it was bearing down on him, and if not for the low-flying rock-mount of his teammate, Cyborg would have been crushed between those plates and the building behind him.

Cyborg fired several more wild shots from above, with one hand tightly holding on to the rock as Terra swung him out of harm's way, stifling a curse when they fizzled out uselessly on impact. To add insult to injury, he found the drone's crushing "attack" was merely its bumbling attempt to rub its side against the bricks of the building, trying to alleviate the apparently minor, itchy irritations his attacks had given it.

Seeing Cyborg fell back to reassess his attack, Scalpel decided charged forward towards the roach, as both a distraction and to try his own luck against it…beginning by giving a sudden spinning dodge, as a tentacle the size and diameter of a large tree trunk ripped up from the street to crash down on him. The blacktranian's nimbleness and militaristic instincts guiding him, he used the momentum of his spin to launch up unto to the retreating appendage, claws refusing to penetrate into it but nonetheless griping onto the rot-scented tendril.

Using this leverage he kicked upwards, glaive fastened securely to his back, and grappled his way up through the creature's tentacled underbody. With the disgusting chaos writhing en masse around him, the alien was forced to duck and weave around every limb, to fall back and avoid deathly strikes, but strive forward into the overwhelming stench of the creature. Among the nest of tendrils, goat-like legs dangled and kicked out at him, their hooves cruelly twisted and sharp like their master's, seeking to carve whatever flesh they could reach, even its own, sparks flashing when they collided with an errant tentacle.

Despite that, Scalpel attempted to take a swipe at one of the lashing limbs with his glaive, cringing when it glanced off the armored tendril with a clash. With a grunt of exertion, the alien doctor swiftly changed tactics, leaping from his perch out into the air. He landed on a rising tentacle with ease, grabbing a tight hold as it swung up high above its mass, attempting to strike at Cyborg and Terra as they swept over it again.

He hit the "ground" running, so to speak, clawed feet hammering roughly against the creature's back, peering around. It did not take him long to find a joint in the platting of its armor and throwing his full body weight forward, he stabbed his glaive blade into it.

Whatever the alien had been expecting, it was not for the weapon to screech to an unceremonious halt and tremble up his arms in violent, almost electric vibrations that threatened to dislocate his shoulders. Panting, he attempted to rip the glaive back out from the plating seam only to find the weapon stuck despite his considerable might.

Frustrated, Scalpel almost started cursing, but it died in his tongue when his instincts flared to life with warning, with the uncomfortable, undeniable feeling that he was being watched, breaking through even the roar of battle, through the canon blasts and rocks raining down on the beast. His eyes snapped down to his glaive, to the slat of armor it was stuck in, and, without thinking, he leaned closer.

A cluster of horizontally-irised, ruby red eyes stared unblinking back at him.

"This i—AAAH!" Nigel yelled as the drone let out a shrieking roar of its own, tossing its massive form backwards like a horse rearing up on it legs. The only thing that kept him from falling and being crushed by its sudden bucks and heaves, its tentacles lashing upwards to its other two attackers. And while he would love to help, Nigel was left with little option but to hold on for dear life. Whatever it was that had set the giant roach off, the Titans could not yet be sure, but the once slow, sluggish movements had given way to a lashing, ground-splitting frenzy.

Half a block away, Gauntlet slammed his metal-encased fist into the asphalt watching as the city street ripped up from the force heading straight for the bucking drone. Once the surge disappeared under the massive bulk of the roach, the blond Titan managed to just catch a glimpse of gold glinting beneath it as a spike of energy attempted to pierce upwards through the mess of tentacles and impale it by its underside. All the attack managed, however, was to give its back end extra height when it gave another violent shake and buck. Gauntlet could not help but cringe at the strangled yell coming from the blacktrianian stowaway as a result.

In its rage, the drone seemed hyperaware to the attacks it was under even if they were greatly ineffective. It reeled on its tentacled underside to turn its ugly stare towards Gauntlet, as if somehow knowing the last assault had come from him. The blond braced himself for the oncoming charge, only to find it pause and rear back up, exposing its writhing underside. It was a gruesome looking sight to be sure, one that seemed to make the Titan's skin feel slimy and cold and all together _off_. He may have continued to stare if not for Nigel letting out a cry of warning:

"LOOK UP!"

The blond hero was startled into doing so, and paled. Cyborg's blasts and Terra's rocks where rebounding or fizzling uselessly against it, but that was not the most disconcerting factor: The beast's great maw had dropped open and from within it came a wet, sucking rumble, like the world's largest foot being pulled up slowly from deep, gelatinous mud. Jerking backwards, Gauntlet managed to grapple away unto a high window ledge hanging above the street. He was very aware that just as his feet left the pavement, a viscous stream of hissing black had shot from the insect's mouth.

By the time he looked back, Gauntlet saw the long gash-like hole the liquid had left in its wake. He could see the cement and asphalt melting further away by the acidic ichor, steam and fumes curling up from the disintegrated ground, like a festering burn. He did not like thinking what it could have done to his soft, human body, nor was he eager to test his shields against the napalm-like substance.

"Someone's been watching Starship Troopers and thinking no one will noti-OW! Hot! Hot! Ow!" Gauntlet yelped as a few drops of the corrosive fluid splattered onto his shirt and began to eat through it.

He didn't have long to deal with it, because the ground shook and groaned, drawing his attention to see the insect begin to charge. Even as his eyes widened, however, the drone was stalled by a brownish-black cloud of bats streaming into its face, twisting and turning in an acrobatic display to avoid crashing into the roach. The drone was, however, too stupid, or perhaps to angry, for such tactics and charged on until a chunk of asphalt the size of a small car smashed into its head.

The massive roach screeched, and the bats had to scamper wildly to avoid the corrosive liquid (a few weren't lucky enough to) it spewed as a result, but its momentum had been ruined. Terra floated on her rock, above the roach's head—and, again, it seemed to know where its attacker had come from, heaving its bulk forward in an attempt to headbutt the geokinetic out of the air, and finding her just out of reach. Its attack on Gauntlet had been successfully diverted.

Using the distraction her rival was providing her, the flurry of bats swirled down onto a low roof beside the drone, reforming in the manner Morgue usually did: Starting from the feet and working her way up into the more thickly hourglass figure she shifted to when in-costume, and then outwards to form two extended arms, with the final bats flinging forward two guns before zipping down to create the hands that caught them. The newest hero made a point not to grimace at the loss of some of her flock washing over her uncomfortably, and instead cocked the firearms. Shots rang out instantly, rattling and ricocheting against the creature's hide in a flash of sparks. None made a scratch in the armor, and instead drew the roach's half-stupid gaze back to Morgue. With a groaning roar, it slammed its body into the building, pulverizing the entire foundation under the mortician's feet. She didn't take her chances and dove off the edge before the footing gave way, once more swirling into a cloud of bats that took to the air.

* * *

Minutes before Morgue's arrival, her significant other found himself finally able to regain his proper footing on the creature's back. Not wishing to go another round of what appeared to be a truly bizarre rodeo, the blacktrinian was beginning to contemplate simply leaving his glaive behind.

Sophie's shots and their ricocheting off the drone's armor rang out in the background. But beneath that sound, Nigel's sensitive ears detected something else: A grating groan that had he not heard, he never would have notice the shift beneath his feet. A quick look down was all he needed to notice the enormous plates on the creature's back had moved ever so slightly back and to the right, giving him just enough space to rip his weapon free. It came loose with a metallic shriek of complaint. Once more, the cluster of red eyes bleared up at him. With the sudden shift, Nigel could see more, though. Flashes of shiny, liquid red that ran all along its hide beneath the armor.

It was, again, mostly instinct and reflex that drove Scalpel to fall on one knee and jab his long claws into the half-stupid, goat gaze.

The effect was as instant as it was explosive.

The cry that rang up from the creature was nearly ear-shattering for the doctor. Perhaps this was why he was unable to take notice of the plate trembling once again until it had jerked up and he was sliding back off of it. With a clumsy leap, Nigel attempted to angle a landing that would not leave him with broken limbs, as behind him the drone shrieked and thrashed in agonized pain.

Unfortunately, a solution was made for him, as only a few feet had passed when a tentacle lashed up at him and seized around one ankle. Like a cracking whip it surged upwards, flipping the Titan upside down before it hurled him back down towards the ground.

* * *

Before the creature had begun to rage, before Nigel had stabbed his fingers into those wet looking egg-like eyes, Cyborg could see that it was preparing to do.

"It's going back down!" he called out to Terra as she soared overhead, now with Gauntlet in tow. "It's going to flee into the sewers!"

As if to prove him right, the drone reared its head back once more and shot another stream of black napalm at the hole its failed attack on Gauntlet had created. The hard concrete and asphalt dripped away into the chasm, like water poured over candy floss. It clamored towards the hole, its head disappearing into it, body to follow.

…Only for it to rip back up from the ground mid-escape, tearing up chunks of street its acid had not eaten away. Roaring and shrieking, it shook its massive head, its body wracked with spasms of pain. Cyborg braced himself and ran a full scale diagnostic scan on the drone attempting to trace the sudden unknown source of this reaction. The window of opportunity was too short, the roach again surged forwards clumsily into the ground.

"Damn it! Terra! Try crushing it!"

"Already on it!" Terra grinned above them before glancing back at the other blond, her trademark golden glow in place, "Let's squash this bug. Mind lending a hand?"

"I can lend several!" Gauntlet nodded as numerous giant, yellow hands appeared above the cracks that were running along the street.

Focusing all of her power, Terra pressed the earth down at the head of the escape route. Upon meeting resistance she brought another surge upward in the same spot from beneath, and then two more from either side. Taking the swell in the ground's halt as a signal the gauntlet formed hands balled into fists and smashed down into the ground as well, both blonds hellbent on crushing the drone in the very tunnel it was creating.

Teeth gritted, Terra pressed…squeezed…forced…a dull pounding began to thud heavily behind her eyes; a sharp pang rang up her spine and flared out into her outheld arms. The golden glow flashed violently in her eyes, like faulty electric wiring, as she tried to constrict the earth around the drone just a little bit more. Beside her, Gauntlet's face twisted up into a grimace of frustrated focus as well as his energy fists became flat palms trying to apply more pressure into her own. She imagined they looked like twins right now.

A single plate ripped up through both their attempts, as if the restraining pressure of the earth and Gauntlet were little more than a light layer of wrapping paper. The aftershock of the severed connections sent both Titans stumbling back with a cry. By the time they were able to steady themselves, it was to see the cracks round a street corner and then disappear like a shark fin descending beneath the surf.

* * *

All of the drone's retreat, and of his teammates' subsequent failed attempts to halt said retreat, were lost on Nigel as he plummeted to the ground headfirst. Eyes shut on reflex; his arms shielded his face and head. With so little time to right himself, the doctor could only hope to not land on his neck and snap it.

Which is why he found himself pleasantly surprised by a distinct lack of impact.

Opening his eyes, Scalpel found himself blinking at the ruined street a mere two or three feet away. Looking down at himself, he saw a welcomed and familiar black glow curled gently around his body, momentarily saving him from the laws of physics.

"It would appear fortune is on my side today. Thank you, Raven," he sighed in greeting at the empath suddenly standing before him.

"It _does _sound like something you'd find in a Chinese buffet. 'Half demons in weird costumes will conveniently divert brain trauma from you,'" a pleasant voice chimed in as Metatron stepped out from behind her. He bent at the waist so as to look at Nigel at eye level, "I suppose they wouldn't include a nice warning about the giant insect. Not cheery enough. Bad for business. I found that out at that nice depression hotline seminar. Best twenty four hours ever."

Nigel just stared.

"…how does your hat stay on?" Adam smiled, poking said hat curiously.

Raven seemed to have mastered the art of ignoring Metatron, merely brushing him aside while putting the blacktranian down carefully.

"Are you alright, Scalpel?"

Nodding, the Titan doctor looked over to the gapping mouth of a tunnel the drone had escaped through, "More than alright. I found its weakness."

* * *

In the past two months, Ryce had decided something. Throughout her daily grind, she had to do many things, all with varying degrees of pleasure or annoyance. But, at the end of it, it was usually followed by a back-to-back period where for the first hour or so Raven would be seated across from her, in quiet meditation—nowadays, the empath rarely had to open her eyes to glare at her due to unfocused fidgeting. In fact, she had been considering canceling the sessions altogether to allow her younger friend to carry on her training on her own time. Ryce supposed that was about as close to a gold star as you could get for passing Raven's meditative practices.

After this, however, came another hour – if not more – of more regular glaring, and a great deal more lecturing. Ryce had learned swiftly to listen to Noel, and especially Tim, when they gave instructions. And after the former threatened – mostly in jest…one would hope – to break her finger, she stopped flipping him off when she thought his back was turned.

Both her teachers had quickly realized that Ryce, while weaker, could be pushed further in training than most: Her muscles would tear and shred if she pushed them, like anyone else's. Unlike anyone else, however, she could push herself past her state of barely being able to get up off the floor. Practically crippled, she could drag herself off to bed only to wake up in the morning feeling perhaps a bit stiff, but altogether fine. Her abused body healed itself during her exhaustion-induced, meditatively-calmed sleep, and she went about her day. And then night came again, and the process started anew. It was, she felt, a way to make good use of her biological bonuses, even if it sometimes made Robin a bit uncomfortable with pushing her so much. For all the starting protests, she had come to enjoy these sessions.

But for all her love of them…they began and ended with that one little thing the teenager had decided she HATED.

"I…hate…running!" she growled out, her heart hammering, her eyes jittering, her body shaky from adrenaline.

Her COM crackled to life, and Noel warned, "Ryce, do NOT start already."

"You were the one who volunteered to run around," Morgue pointed out, not unkindly.

"Aye, and guess what? That means I get to whine incessantly 'bout it," she informed both in a clipped tone.

"Certainly, that will not hinder us at all by getting in the way of more important messages others may have at these pressing end-of-the-universe times," Metatron replied lightly.

Terra chimed in, "We could just turn her frequency off."

"Though, I personally wonder why you don't simply shut off Ryce's frequency off, if you'd rather not have to listen to her—you know, like I do with Terra," Met pointed out.

"…WHAT? You asshole fr—!"

"Perhaps I'm just not in the right place to say that, as I personally enjoy listening to the munchkin's thoughts on physical exertion," Met continued, unabated, perhaps because he couldn't hear the other blonde's outrage. "It provides me with unique insight I personally find delightful, such as the fact she's still alive."

"Everyone sucks except Ad-AH!" Ryce suddenly screamed.

A mailbox had crashed beside her, and it was only a stumbling dodge to her right that had kept her from severe damage. It seemed D'xias, in his frustration, had resorted to improvised weaponry. Ryce cursed, cutting the conversation short and focusing on her life-or-death situation instead.

Such a decision worked in her favor as a tentacle bearing a multitude of orange eyes sliced past her, narrowly missing her hip. Grunting with exertion, Ryce summoned a shade, its form sprinting besides her for a moment, before The White Hole solidified into view. It stopped jarringly and raised its weapon high above its head. With an arcing swing, the gargantuan great axe severed the tendril that was just beginning to double back towards Ryce.

It would be a lie to say the howling cry did not bring a smile to Ryce's face. There was little time to celebrate though, where one was lost, she knew a new one would burst forth to take its place, angry and hungry to tear into the one who had brought it into being.

"Get the specimens into the truck!"

The voice nearly brought Ryce's gait to a stumbling halt. Recovering from a few missed steps, she turned to see a group of men and women scrambling into a white van some thirty yards away. The company-owned vehicle was unmarked except for the blocky, no nonsense script that ran across its side. "Genesis Laboratories," the van indentified its owners as, the same logo on a sign above the doorway the men and women were fleeing from. White labcoats rustled frantically, some clutching notes with the same desperation one would clutch their child. Others carried cages and boxes, which from so far away Ryce could not even guess to what they contained.

They had ignored the evacuation notice, somehow being missed by the police that swept the area. Ryce did not have time to feel angry at their inherent stupidity. They were almost all piled into the idling van by the time she had even notice them. Yet, even as the last climbed in, they did not shut the door. They did not peel away, leaving the smell of burnt rubber and the black streaks of their tires on the pavement, as she had been expecting.

"Thomas! Thomas we have to go, NOW!" an older woman shrieked from inside the van to the still open Genesis Laboratories doorway. Someone inside the car was saying to leave him behind, another was expressing horror at such an idea, still one more was praying to not die like this. Even in her adrenaline rush, Ryce could 'See' that they would survive this and she almost made to continue her sprint away.

Almost.

He was an older man. Not quite elderly, but above middle-aged. It came to her quickly, too fast to gain much information, just enough to pause her step onwards. This "Thomas" came jogging out of the yawning mouth of the doorway, in his arms a notebook and picture frame gingerly cradled. He did not scramble as his colleagues had done. He jogged almost leisurely wearing a doctor's cap and scrubs, his face all but obscured by a sterile mask.

Somewhere behind her, Ryce could see via a shade that her brother was picking up a concrete divider left by a long since evacuated construction company. She turned, ankles nearly rolling with momentum and ran for towards the man. It would strike his chest, crushing ribs into splinters that would fly into his organs like shrapnel. His co-workers would cry out in abject horror even as they sped away, all staring at the medical mask over his face that had gone from white to red when the gore was forced up into it from his compressed torso.

Thomas did not see Ryce coming, did not see her transform and use her wings to gust herself up and over the hood of a parked car, claws hooked into the metal for balance. He did however, feel her form colliding with his as she tackled him to the side. And as they did, they could hear the crumbling of the building's bricks as the divider slammed into the spot the doctor had been jogging through. Both the older man and the teenager hit the ground with a pained grunt, gathering equal amounts of bruising. Ryce looked up to find the doctor's pale eyes, only slightly wide behind his glasses as he stared at the concrete he barely avoided.

"…thank you," she heard him say calmly, his mask muffling his voice and preventing her from discerning his accent.

Ryce nodded wordlessly, about to leap up and run again. But before she could, Thomas held his hand out; so she took it automatically and gave it a brief shake. Wings twitched, the adrenaline screaming at her to keep moving and stop being polite to the damned stupid doctor who did not have the common sense to leave when he had the chance. Suddenly, the world seemed to have sharpened in focus for her, mismatched eyes not on the stupid man, but on the figures she saw watching from the top of a building above them.

"Thomas," he told her, "Dr. Thomas Engle. Thank you…?" he trailed off, still in that infuriatingly calm voice.

"Ryce," she said dismissively and pulled herself to her feet, wings and tail fading from sight.

"Ah…Yes. Thank you, Ryce," Dr. Engle said smoothly, beginning to stand himself.

But Ryce was already running. She would accept gratitude later. Accept it when she did not have her father and a black-clad teenager watching her moves intently from above. When she did not have to think about what that pale, young-looking woman's presence meant.

* * *

Robin watched through the narrowed slits of his eye mask. If you had told him yesterday he would be running around a pitch-dark city at eight o' clock in the morning, playing zombie animal control…well, he probably would not have even have laughed due to the ridiculousness of the statement. More likely, he would have told Ryce to stop being stupid.

Yet, here he was, watching from a rooftop as an oversized, undead tabby cat pawed through the dumpster in an alleyway.

Across, on the adjacent rooftop, he could see Starfire getting into position, neither needing to spare the other a glance to know that they were almost ready to launch. They had all seen the cat's speed, the fluid way it moved, having its bones shattered and reassembled had clearly enhanced that. They had to hit it once and hard—and to do that, they had to slow it down.

And slowing it down was just what the common green fly was sent to do. With a twitch of its wings, it came to rest on one of the creature's torn and scabrous ears. The cat did not so much as flinch at the contact as it shoved its face further into the rotten garbage before it, though it did not eat so much as it ran its mouth uselessly over the contents: A slow and stupid imitation of its actions in life.

It happened in quick succession. One moment the fly was scuttling down its spine, the next it became an emerald, four hundred pound version of a hyena that had been extinct for quite some time. The sudden weight on the drone's flank made its knee buckle and its hip snap, and the ironclad clamp of Beast Boy's jaws reduced the metatarsal bones into shards. Wasting no time, the custom-made hyena swung his mass around, the creature's foot still in his teeth even as it lifted its face from the dumpster and roared.

Beast Boy saw it coming, having already been on the receiving end of such a tail once before. Instantly, his body shifted, the fur sinking away to reveal a tough and knotty hide of scales. The spines, having gained little momentum and expecting flesh and fur, bounced uselessly off the crocodile—Beast Boy did not so much as flinch and instead rolled unto his back, seeking to flip and disorientate the mindless drone. Instantly, he saw the uselessness of the move when the creature's spine severed at the half point, causing only its legs and lower body to turn. Its slack and hateful face surged forward, tooth and claw aimed at his tough hide.

Above the shrieking cat and its living "bear trap," Starfire floated up from her perch and let loose with a barrage of carefully-aimed starbolts. Behind them, at least half a dozen sharp-edged birdarangs followed. They would fry and slice whatever rancid flesh they touched.

And that wasn't good for their teammate below: The cat's flesh was every bit as rotten as it looked and smelled. Beast Boy struggled to keep his human gag reflex buried deep inside him beside what little breakfast he had as he gripped the reanimated corpse in his jaws.

He smelled the change before he felt it—Beneath the rot came something new, a warm and acidic sort of smell that seemed vaguely familiar to him. Under the swarm of blades and heat raining down in what felt like slow motion, the big cat shifted, Beast Boy's teeth tearing downwards on its leg just a fraction. Then, instead of rot, his mouth filled with a gelatinous and tarry texture, black seeping out from between his conical teeth, washing over his gums, tongue and chin. Now he recognized the smell, the same as its creator, similar to said creator's sister, whom they had brought into their home. It was blood.

The effect was immediate: The flesh of his mouth beginning to burn as if dipped into molten metal, his jaws releasing on reflex. The drone wasted no time, its spine re-breaking to snap its front paws to the ground and speed out of the birdarang-starbolt barrage, fleeing down the alley with a bahing shriek that intertwined with Beast Boy's roars in a horrific sort of melody.

"Starfire, follow it!" Tim barked out, not needing to see to know the orange woman promptly followed the order.

By now, the roars had changed back to pained and very human screams. Using a fire escape, Robin slid down beside his crouching teammate to find Beast Boy's mouth a blistering and peeling fester of red. Snapping out his staff, he removed a hose's spout hook up from the building side with a quick swipe. Lost in his pain, Robin had to seize and guide Beast Boy's head to the stream of water to rinse away the black tar like liquid still dripping from his abused mouth.

"What happened?" Tim asked. It an odd moment, he really wished he carried milk in his belt.

"E-Eh…ta…buud," Garfield garbled out when he lifted his rinsed face from the water, his eyes still involuntarily tearing from the pain. His mouth moved clumsily, numbly in fact, as if suddenly shot full of Novocain.

"What?"

"'Un tosh buud!" the shifter tried again, pointing to the black puddle some feet away and then to his own useless mouth, "umm! Foison!"

Tim listened carefully, watching his gestured before translating, "The blood? The blood is poison?"

"Eh 'ucking HUR'S!"

Helping him to his feet, Robin pulled up his COM and called out into it, struggling with his frustration, "Ryce! Did you plan on telling us your kind's blood was poisonous!"

The answer did not offer back any of that restraint, her annoyance accented with the constant sound of her running, "Do _**you**_ plan on not givin' away my location every three seconds with your yammerin'? You aren't fightin' my brother yet so our blood doesn't matter!"

"It does when the drones are leaving Beast Boy's mouth looking like it had acid dumped on it!" Robin pointed out as he and the younger Titan began to follow Starfire's pursuit.

For a few moments there was nothing but the sound of her feet on the pavement. But then even that stopped as her voice came back in slightly winded, and very much confused, tone, "…wait…the DRONE had it? They…they've never done that b'fore…"

"Well then something's changed because Beast Boy had a hold on it and now his mouth is barely responding and in pa-"

"Why in God's name did he BITE a corpse!"

"…"

_Now_ all signs of concern vanished, replaced by the hammering of her footsteps, and the annoyed, patronizing tone that came next, "…'kay…I didn't think I'd have to tell you all this….DON'T BITE THE DEAD THINGS!"

"Aw…there goes my Plan B," Gauntlet called back with a mock-disappointment.

"That's terrible advice, Ryce. You're forgetting the reverse zombie logarithm," Metatron reminded her conversationally.

"Why would we BITE them?" Scalpel joined in with equals part confusion and disgust, apparently having missed the start of the conversation.

"Who is stupid enough to bite th-…god damn it never mind," Terra's voice trailed off in resignation.

"That is the mouth you'll be kissing later in the best case scenarios, Terra," Met piped in cheerfully. "Abrupt universal obliteration's suddenly not looking too bad, is it?"

Then the line went silent as they returned to the battle at hand, not all that concerned with the answer to their questions and some too repulsed to formulate words.

"…I 'ate 'ice," Beast Boy sulked beside Tim as they ran on.

"Yes, yes, I hate Ryce, too."

* * *

"You will stand still now," Starfire growled out in her own frustration as she watch yet another flash of green burn uselessly into the cement below. The cat tilted its head from its perch upon a groaning mail box until its neck snapped and it made its way all the way back around. For a moment Starfire was reminded of the feline character of one of her favorite human stories. She found the affect far less charming in reality, perhaps having to do with this Chesire's decomposed state.

The drone was gone in a blur, streaking off beneath her hovering form, out of her line of sight. She turned just in time to see it bound up unto the side of a building, claws sinking effortlessly into the brick and then propelled itself towards her. Starfire just managed to pull herself from its path by ducking her shoulder.

Yet she wasn't fast enough to about the loud cracking and pop sound that followed.

She felt a red-hot sting cross her back, the force of which spun her around midair to see the cat twist in its descent towards her, like a snake. Its right front paw—the very one that had just now cut into her back, she guessed—snapped back into place from its broken angle, just as its back legs extended back behind itself to brace for the landing. The Titan saw her change to charge…and was caught off guard by the drone's tail snapping through the air like a whip, sending a barrage of spines rocketing towards her face.

They made it approximately a foot before exploding in a flume of orange. The drone's tail did not even fall back behind its falling form before it followed suit. With a bahing shriek, the cat crumpled to the ground, the charred and twisted remains of its tail writhing uselessly on the ground several feet away—it struggled for a few moments, before finally laying still. The stupid and hateful stare of the undead cat rolled up to the masked man standing several yards away, and with a snarl, its attention left Starfire completely, bounding towards Robin in a flash.

Gritting his teeth, the Titan leader sent several more birdarang ripping through the air towards it. Now that he had its attention though, the cat moved fluidly through the air, bones snapping to avoid the slicing blades, its contorted, disturbing body never losing speed. Robin flipped back to avoid its swipe, and responded with his staff, just in time to block the jaws threatening to feast on his midsection.

In response, the creature snapped its spine in half placing its hind legs – and all of its weight – on either side of Robin's battle staff. Its jaw broke quickly, slamming the staff and the man holding it to the ground. The cat lunged its head forward, fangs seeking the flesh of Robin's neck.

Instead, it found a green triceratops' center horn, its neck breaking, then resetting, from the force of the dinosaur's mad charge. Partially impaled, the cat gave a roar, claws slashing at the thick hide of Beast Boy's face. The armored skin refused to break, so instead it forced its body off the now black-stained horn and launched over the dinosaur's face.

Both Beast Boy and the drone about-faced. Both wasted no time and began to charge towards the other. The cat's haunches collapsed beneath it as it made to launch at the horned lizard once more…only for it to jerk back and go crashing to the ground.

The white, gossamer strands wrapped around its back ankles surged forward, entwining themselves around its front legs as well, rooting the drone to the ground. Snapping its neck around, the single orange eye focused on the black-clad man standing behind him. Snarling out, it jerked its body towards Savior, the stump that was its tail snapping back and forth as if it had yet to figure out that it was gone.

Whatever the creature was thinking – if it could even think – was never answered as Beast Boy slammed into it, goring open its side and trampling it as he stampeded. From above, green flashes of light and heat rained down. From its right, several blinking birdarangs buried into its side.

Its stupefied expression never changed as it disappeared in an explosion of flame and green.

* * *

D'xias' flabby, disgusting body tensed in midair. The pause nearly sent him falling to the ground, perhaps would have if his tentacle "wings" hadn't resumed flapping on their own accord.

Another drone fallen. Only one left.

Then again, he only needed one. There were more pressing matters at hand now.

Like ripping out the Maggot's nails by the root.

He had lost her trail about three blocks back. It was not something to worry over though: All he needed was to find someone, anyone really, and out the little Worm would come running. Four smiles bubbled up along the surface of his head and chest at the thought.

There were not too many stragglers left behind, but he could still hear the few, scampering and scurrying away in late attempts at escape. The final ants making their way out of a flooding tunnel. Footsteps hurrying along alleyways, splashing below through sewer ways, the shrieking squeal of tires as a car peeled away on some roadway –close by, in fact. All around him the sounds of fear.

Quite close, the car was indeed…where was-

In the darkness of the morning – caused by those poison clouds – the bright flash of high beams cut through like knives. D'xias ripped around to the parking garage he hovered beside, a single orange eye widening in the harsh beam. The second story wall exploded outwards as the large white Hummer rammed through it. The momentum of the SUV's speed sent it not just through the wall but flying out into the air. More specifically, right into D'xias' airspace.

The force of the collision shattered the angel's ribs. The force of it crushing him once they hit the ground broke his spine.

It all was already healing with snapping cracks by the time D'xias managed to roll over onto his stomach and painfully pull himself out of the wreckage. He had just enough time to growl when the truck's reverse lights flashed, and the tires shrieked again as the back bumper shattered his chest, ripping off chunks of his too-loose skin under the wheels that subsequently crushed him further.

The impact of the fall had broken the car's windshield, and D'xias' body had only escalated the damage, allowing his eyes to make their way down his face in a line, narrowed in hate upon the now visible face grinning a touch maniacally from the driver's seat. This time he did not struggle, he did not even waste his time on healing. Instead, the half- angel rocketed up unto his hooves with a mad scream, and thrust out his large claws, catching the ruined bumper as his sister attempted to run him over one more time.

Tendrils aiding him, he twisted the speeding vehicle up off the ground, its wheels racing uselessly for the ground they could not find. It flew through the air after he released it, hood partially caving when it hit the street, breaking the remaining windows. Metal shrieked and crashed as the force flipped the Hummer once, then twice, before it skidded upside down into a telephone pole. Here, it finally came to rest hissing and groaning from its abuse.

Stumbling, mind stuttering with his drunken steps, D'xias threw himself into the side of the overturned SUV. Several, _terrible_ smiles bubbled up his entire body, the one in his forehead splitting his skull into a biting rictus grin of jagged glass. Above him, a large wheel turned lazily in the air before groaning and falling off its rod unto the overheated, hissing undercarriage. The vicious mouth of needle-fangs jutted open in hungry anticipation, and his claws sank into the metal door as if it were made of butter. His only thought beneath the jabbering rage focused on just how good her blood would taste.

He could hear her little communicator babbling out the scuttling of her fellow insects inside the vehicle. He could smell her oozing wounds. With a quick twitch he launched the car back upright and seized the door. With even less effort, he had ripped it right off its hinges and flung it behind him into the wreckage.

Her COM sat blaring and alone on a blood stained dashboard.

Despite himself, the man-shaped thing gave a grunt of surprise, pulling back from the driver's side before diving his head back in. Claws flared out and slashed at the seats, disemboweling them of their fluffy and foamy innards. Snarling he tore at the dashboard and interior like a rooting, grunting animal as if his sister could somehow still be hiding somewhere, waiting to be spooked out like a fat, frightened pheasant. Deeper into the truck he leaned, his body supported by tentacles that gripped the edge of the door and roof. One slithered up and over the steering column and used air bag to coil about that stupid yellow device that hissed and gabbled out the battle his drones had all but lost.

"She always _was_ better than you at Hide N' Seek,"

The aberration went still at the voice, a single eye bubbling up on his frozen hand. The orange stare's pupil contracted when it fell upon the well-dressed man smiling at him through the passenger side's window.

His father's smile was warm…amused, even. The Archangel rocked back slightly on his heels and looked up and away from his son, "Then again…you were never much good at anythin'."

Head tilting ever so slightly to the side, D'xias' tendril limbs pulled their host back from the inside of the car…and instantly, his vision was filled with the SUV door he had moments ago torn off – and only now realized never heard land – swinging towards his head.

"Olly olly oxen free!" Ryce growled out with a grin, her left eye glowing brightly from where she was crouched on top of the roof. The shade followed through with its strike and whipped the car door across her brother's temple. The first blow sent him staggering back away from the flipped vehicle. The second knocked him spiraling to the ground. Ryce did not wait beyond this, save to pelt the door into the back of his lolling head as he attempted to stand. Jumping down, she began to run off again, heart hammering, legs feeling not unlike rubber as adrenaline – both natural and injected – flooded her system.

"Get over here!" D'xias' voice boomed into an echo through the ruined streets of an abandoned city. A single tendril shot out blindingly fast from his back and ensnared Ryce's ankle before she could flee. The air was knocked from her lungs when it sent her crashing into the pavement, aggrieving her already bloody nose. She managed to turn enough to avoid leaving the skin of her face on the street as he dragged her back. The ground fell away and she was lifted up to his face where three eyes narrowed on her angrily, snarling, spitting mouths forming on either of his shoulders.

"Well if we are goin' with classics," Ryce chuckled and to D'xias' surprise thrust herself up into his face to grin, eyes locked with his, "Toasty!"

Flames ripped like liquid up his back and down his legs, blackening his skin and crackling merrily. His own roars joined that sonata as he arced in pain. Ryce smiled at the sight, preparing herself for the release of her brother's grip, she knew she would have to hit the ground running.

What she did not prepare for was the grip of his tendrils to contract painfully around her limbs. In the center of his arching chest bloomed a massive eye, burning in hate—and Ryce had just enough time to give a strangled sounding gasp of surprise before the tendrils lifted her and slammed her head first into the ground.

* * *

_She felt...warm. There was a delicate, gentle rumbling beneath her and something was cradling her. She curled up a bit into it as she continued to doze through the fog of her mind. There was a soft confusion to it all, but she welcomed it, regardless._

"_...li?"_

_A soft shake._

"_Ali?"_

_She murmured and turned into the soft fabric cradling her. It was the seat of a car, she remembered now. Robbie had taken her into town to look for more blankets even though they had plenty back at camp. Sam could be so weird sometimes. Her eyes cracked open and she yawned, stretching in the seat…she had not meant to fall asleep but the trucks rumbling had been oddly relaxing._

_Next to her, Robert Candide smiled quietly, and she was oddly surprised by how broken and beaten and **older** he looked in comparis—but then caught herself, confused by those thoughts: Robbie's always looked like that... since when had she described it as broken?_

_He was anything but, to her._

"_We're almost to camp," he informed her, distracting her from the thoughts._

"_...I fell 'sleep," she said in a quiet sort of tone that she was inwardly taken back by for some reason, "M'sorry."_

_Rob just smiled, easing the car into a passable parking place, "Don't be silly, you don't have to apologize for THAT."_

_She was beginning to feel more and more like herself, no longer wondering why she should be so timid. "We didn't find any blankets," she frowned looking into the back seat and trunk, "...will...will Sam be okay with that?"_

"_This was just an exploratory trip," Rob shrugged, "It's not a problem since we weren't really expected to find anything. 'Sides, we have plenty in stock, remember? That's one thing we're not wanting of."_

_Without waiting for an answer, he got out of the truck and jogged along it, opening the door for her._

"_Thank you," she said quietly, giving him a shy smile as she clamored out. She had to jump down a bit due to her small stature, nearly stumbling to the ground as she did so._

_Robert, used to such an occurrence, caught her easily and steadied her. The camp was still and her landing steps echoed. Nearby, the look-out sat and yawned, waving at them from his post, reassuring them that everyone was still safe._

"_T-They all tucked in early," Ali observed, looking about curiously and sticking close to Rob's side as they walked._

"_It was probably a long day," Rob noted, leading her along. It did not take long before Ali realized they were not going to her tent._

"_Where...where're we goin,' Robbie?" she asked grabbing unto his sleeve gently._

"_The Big Tent," Rob shrugged, smiling. "I thought, well, since everyone's asleep, and we have the camp to ourselves, we could go over for dinner or something," his grin widened, "Could be fun."_

_Somewhere in the dark, there was a snap of a twig, a sound that made her jump and grip his sleeve tighter, in a way that made her annoyed with herself somehow, and caused her irises to narrow into thin slits. Soon enough calm settled back over her, in particular when she tucked closer into his side, considering his words._

"_Won't Morgan b'mad if we touch the food supplies when he s'not there?" She asked, smiling back in spite of herself. Robbie was good at making her do that._

"_Meh, he's mad whenever we're together for anything, that old goat," Rob shrugged—but she didn't like that word, goat, "Anyway, we missed dinner—we're allowed to get a snack. Sam's rules."_

_Ali tilted her head, considering it for a moment before giving a tiny nod. After all, she was quite hungry. Rules were rules. She gave him a shaky smile and linked her arm with his, "Aye...le's go eat!"_

_And so they went._

_After a few steps, she added in a hopeful question, "...d'you think there's any of the chocolate left?" _

_By that point, The Big Tent was in plain sight, amongst the other tiny tents. Eddie had told her about how they lucked into it, a big circus tent—or maybe a fumigation one, but everyone preferred to assume circus, to add some magic and laughter to the idea—just abandoned in the middle of nowhere, just like so many other things had been in this world. It had taken some convincing, but Sam had finally agreed to take it, and now everyone used it as an eating hall. A place to gather and to talk and to eat together, as family. Sam had eventually agreed that it had been a good idea to take it after all, albeit grudgingly and after much coaxing from Jeanie's smile. Ali herself had found it to be her favorite, if loudest, place in their constantly moving 'home.'_

_Rob gave a mysterious smile, "Oh, I'm willing to bet, yes."_

_Ali's fingers interlaced with his and her steps seemed to speed up a bit, pulling him along, "C'mon then! B'fore Morgan wakes up an' makes me go t'bed!" She ignored the idea that her accent was somehow thicker than usual._

_A man walked out of the darkness of the Big Tent as the couple walked into it. This man wore mostly black, with funny, mismatched black-and-blond hair and happy, golden eyes. He seemed to look towards her and smile a soft smile as he walked out of the corner of her eye and was lost. For some reason, Ali did not think to turn, and despite the nudging in the back of her head to acknowledge the wandering man, continued her stride with Rob as if he was not there. She did not question his presence, as everyone was supposed to be asleep. She continued to ignore that strange man and the unsettling cringing he seemed to cause in her._

_Strangely, though her mind was troubled, her body, her actions... did not seem to be on the same page, unaware of the turbulence, and happy. Like watching someone else._

…_someone…else?_

"_I hope there s'still some tea, too" she said as she pulled him along with her, "Dad an' I always used t'have a cup'a b'fore the end of the night."_

_Rob hugged her close, smiling she could tell – despite the sudden darkness of the tent her eyes had yet to adjust to, she just knew he was smiling. "So, did you like today?"_

_Today...a bit foggy as it came to her, as if it was something that happened years ago as opposed to just hours. She woke up to Morgan and Eddie and they we getting along...friendly...nicer. Dare she think it, **loving. **Morgan had let her help with breakfast...had even gone so far as allowed her to use his good knives. Eddie had done her hair in a funky new way...clipping part of it back and braiding what was left with those beads they had found last time they were in town._

_All the while, Rob smiled at her, as if the moment was frozen in time._

_The afternoon with Rob…she blushed, her fingers curling around the light weight of the celtic knot hanging on its delicate chain around her neck._

"_Aye...s'nice gettin' t'spend time without Morgan bein..." she paused, frowning at that, "Well...without him bein' Morgan." She looked up at Rob shyly and continued in a worried tone, "Did...did you like t'day?" _

_Robert began talk, as if knowing she was back up to speed, or as if somewhere, a play button was pushed. "I don't believe for a second you really have to ask," he replied, in a huskier, warmer voice, pulling her close by the waist. It was his 'hunky' voice. It usually sent her to stammers and blushes._

_That night had been no exception—but there was a bit of awkwardness, as if she were reacting the wrong way…as if she should be trying to politely not laugh at him. Ali snapped all that awkward questioning down and the tips of her ears burned bright red. She did not pull away though, "I...I j-jus' wanted t'be sure."_

"_Any minute with you is good," Rob confided, leaning closer, towards her lips._

_Her face flared red as she leaned in to meet him, closer now. Then, light suddenly flooded into the room, and..._

* * *

"You're sure on this, Scapel?"

"As sure as we usually can get in these types of situations, Robin," the Doctor replied into his COM.

"Alright, it's going to have to be good enough for now. We're on our way to your location now. Everyone else, do the same, and remember, aim for its eyes under the plates. We have a little over and hour left. Go!"

With that, the remaining Titans began to push towards the rocky shores of the bay. Those that were already waiting were left to watch as the streets above groaned and quaked due to the tremoring beast tunneling its way towards them. It burst from the ground with the same fanfare it had when diving down into it, raining the beach with rocks, dirt and debris. Scrambling quickly, it blundered down the beach, as if attempting to escape from something giving chase in its own tunnels…and half a second later, the debris around the hole glowed red, shifting at a slow pace that still filled up the tunnel, at which point it quickly cooled off into solid, black stone, clogging the roach's entrance.

"Surprisingly obedient, once the threat of magmatic burial is introduced," Metatron said with a serene sort of calm beside Nigel. "Mayhaps it's claustrophobic."

The blacktranian nodded warily, staring at the large patch of glass Metatron, and himself, stood on, at least 40 feet in diameter. It had been beach sand only minutes ago: Metatron's strategy of melting and cutting off any path the roach took that didn't lead it here (with Terra's help) had done little but singe and dirty the drone's iron sided plates, but it had also triggered a near-instinctual flight response. Behind them, Raven and Sophie watched on silently, both knowing that damage had not been the goal of the heat demon, merely herding, both sparing their own curious stares to the glass. Neither knew what to make of it.

But for everything he was, Scalpel saw himself as a doctor the most, and so he also noticed something more subtle. "…Are you going to be ok?"

Metatron looked to his companion with a smile—and the movement made Nigel's observations more obvious: His legs and knees, they were all trembling slightly. Just as slightly as his complexion was flushed and feverish. Metatron made no effort to hide these, but simply didn't seem concerned himself.

"Worn," the demon replied simply. He brought up a hand to his face, studying curiously. It, too, was shaking slightly. "Somewhat overstretched. It's not often I dish out this much power. Especially after earlier," he pocketed his hand again. "It'll be a while before it's an issue, Nige, so relax. I'll just sleep it off once we're done here."

Unsure what else to do right that second, Scalpel nodded and looked to the fight. From each side of the creature's flanks, they watched as Terra and Starfire swooped in, the geokinetic carrying Gauntlet with her, who in turn, worked in his own gold, jousting lance.

Terra came up on the right side, zooming below the snap of a plate, and then back up with a spin-dodge for a tentacle. She did not spare a glance back at her fellow blond as Victor's voice called up from their COMs.

"Gauntlet, my sensors indicate you both are coming up on a shifting plate. Be ready to strike. The target area is only two inches or so wide."

Robert's mouth opened just before Terra cut him off, "If you say a word about Womprats, I am shoving you off the rock, Gauntlet."

"…yea well…frack Twili—"

"My line," Metatron's voice cut him off this time.

Gauntlet grumbled to himself and leaned dangerously over his perch. A glimmer of red. With a swing of his arms, his weapon holstered itself for leverage. He jabbed his hand forward.

The contact was synchronized with the blinding flash of green and a sizzling boom from his left. If the creature's buckling back half was any indicator, both of those had been direct hits. Neither flight group gave so much as a faltering pause or glance back, following through in their airborne paths out over the bay. A baying roar of rage sounded behind them, followed by a roiling splash as the roach gave chase out into the waters.

"There! You've hit the bay drop off, double back!" Cyborg commanded as the flight team reeled back around and dove to continue their assault on the waterlogged drone.

Less agile in the roaring surge of the surf, the roach roared and flailed in its fury up at its attackers, unaware of the black void glow appearing on its back or the sudden swarm of bats descending down on it. It may have continued to be unaware of these oncoming interlopers – like a dog unaware of the arrival of a few fleas – had Nigel not emerged from Raven's port and announced himself with a quick jab of his glaive into one of its eye clusters, followed up by a blast from Morgue's Backbiter into another cluster fifty feet away.

"Jesus, the one time Aqualad would have been useful," Terra said in a gritted grin, flying over as Scalpel made more progress against it that they'd had been able to so far.

"Terra, not now!" Robin shouted as he flew by with his girlfriend, a grappling hook allowing him to land onto its back and join Scalpel. "It's trying to burrow again!"

"It. WON'T," Terra replied, her eyes glowing with power, and the sand and mire at the bottom of the bay responding to her, swirling against each other under her touch, and forming a whirlpool that pushed the roach away and unable to dig to safety.

"Good job," Raven blinked at the sight. The rest of the Titans took the chance and moved to attack the raging creature, hoping its frustration meant they were getting somewhere, rather than just annoying it.

"Yeah, well, I can't do much from here," Terra replied through clenched teeth. "This requires…a lot of concentration…specially with the weight of the freaking water against me…finish it before I have to stop!"

Raven nodded and dashed to do just that, ducking under the assault of her teammates, and knowing it was just a matter of time.

She just hoped, as Scalpel danced along, stabbing at clusters of eyes, they had enough of it.

* * *

"_SURPRISE!" the voices cried, proceeded by the forceful gruff of an older man with a thick brogue. Ali jumped back at the light, her eyes wide and wild behind her glasses, irises slitted and afraid. Rob also jumped, holding on to Ali, though his scare was quickly replaced by annoyance. "Couldn't you have given me a second?" he demanded._

"_NO," the older Irish man, Morgan, replied, glaring at Rob like a wolf._

_Meanwhile, Ali clung to the crew-cut blond, her eyes rounding back out as she tried to hide behind him, "Wha...wha's goin' on?"_

_Rob attempted to glare back at the older man, but rolled his eyes and smiled at the girl in his arms, "Happy birthday, Ali."_

"_Happy what?" she asked, blinking in confusion at the collection of people gathered in the Big Tent._

"_Happy birthday!" a few others called back, clapping and cheering for her as Morgan came up and hugged her – an attempt to pull her away from Rob._

"_...H-happy what?" she asked again, looking up at him in utter confusion._

"_...Birthday, hun," a pretty blond – Eddie, her mind said numbly – replied, his long skirt brushing the ground as he came up beside Morgan. He was watching her with a studying sort of look, noting the lack of comprehension._

_People were beginning to crowd around her, when Morgan tried to explain, "It's... a human celebration. We celebrate you being born, on the date you were. We celebrate 'cause we're happy to have you."_

_Ali looked down at that, biting her lower lip uncomfortably. As usual, Eddie did not allow it to continue, reaching over and tilting her chin back up, "You and your father don't celebrate your birthday, Ali?"_

"_...S'bad day for him," she told them, sounding cautious and yet curious as she looked around at all the people gathered around her. Eventually, her curiosity won out over her initial fear, "You celebrate when you're born. What d'you do on...birthdays?" _

_Rob's jaw clenched, looking at her gently and, unseen, along with Morgan, while Eddie's expression changed to one of bewilderment and concern, matched by most of them._

"_We eat cake!" piped in a little voice beneath them, breaking the awkward silence. Ali's eyes traveled down to find little Jeanie, looking up at her and hugging her leg, "And parties!"_

"_Cake?" Ali looked first to Rob, and then gave a hesitant smile and turned to Morgan. There was an excited glint to her eyes, endearingly similar to the little girl at her feet as she asked, "We have cake?"_

_Morgan smiled gently, and she did not notice how mad he was, not at her, but at the situation…it seemed so obvious and she could not help feeling like she was an idiot for not seeing it. But how did that make sense? She was NOT seeing it..._

_Morgan though, petted her gently, and hugged her, his voice soft, "Chocolate Angel Cake."_

_She laughed at that hugging him back tightly...he made her a cake. He made her a cake and it hurt...why should that hu-_

"_Blew an entire basket of strawberries on it too," a shorter, but quite stocky man said, yet he was smiling at her, "Better appreciate it, Ali."_

"_Where...where did we find strawberries?" Ali asked as her own brain screamed that she hated that name._

"_We've been saving them for weeks," Morgan explained. "It was a pain, keeping them fresh, but I managed," he added proudly._

"_This has got to be the dullest party I've ever been to," Eddie interrupted with a roll of his eyes as he took Ali's hand, dragging her away. "Come on! It's your birthday," this was said with a grin, "let's enjoy it!"_

"_I...I am," she said brightly, gripping his hand softly and reaching out her other to grab Rob's as well. As they moved along, she caught someone with long, spiky white hair staring at her from across the room, but she made nothing of it—instead, she beckoned Morgan to follow, giggling._

_She went with them, and she smiled, a warm feeling spreading in the laughter and the squeals, in the warm weight of picking up Jeanie. Even as the tot pulled her hair one way or the other, demanding to be taken places – She did not mind. She missed it. She missed THEM, she knew, regardless of having seen them only a few hours before._

_Dozens of faces greeted her, smiling, they welcomed her... not at all bloody – but why bloody? – congratulated her and hugged her. _

_It was her first party._

_She remembered her father's "parties" and how often she dreaded them: Fearful, tense events where she was to keep her mouth shut and her eyes down. This...was nothing like that. It was warm and safe like those smiles that were gleaming back at her. They were not screaming, but that was a silly thought because of course they were not. Feeling oddly bold, she reeled around on her heels and kissed Rob—the kiss the shout of surprise had prevented. She could hear Morgan growl behind them and could not help but smile fondly at that, ignoring the black cape flurrying just out of her line of sight._

_Though flushed red, she was still__ giggling at Morgan's complaints __when__ she pulled __away__. Ali looked up at Rob __bright,__**living**__ – not dead__,__ dolls __eyes, _why was she thinking these things?_ – eyes. He was left blinking at the boldness, bright red himself before his face broke out into a grin, and he moved in for a second one._

"_Okay, that's it," Morgan cut in, grumpily grabbing hold of the girl's hand, "Come on, Ali," – Ali... Ali, Ali, Ali – "let's go get you some food. I made it all, tell me what you like best," and then he dragged her away, Eddie laughing in their wake and Rob looking quite put out._

_The night moved on in a haze of warmth and laughter, yet all the while something nagged at her. Even as she tried a bitter drink that made her head swim like her dinner wine used to…one that Morgan yelled at Rob for giving her, while Eddie dragged the older man back, hugging him and giggling. Broken Rob wished the young gay man luck in trying to lighten him up._

_The food was delicious, and Ali realized that Morgan put a HUGE effort on it. For HER. There were even homemade condiments. The mustard…_

_...she really liked the mustard...mustard._

_...but it wouldn't make a good drink._

"_I agree," the voice behind her was a little gruff, but kind, slurping on his own drink. She did not turn, even as the clanking steps vanished into the back of her mind. Somehow, she knew that they were probably enjoying their ketchup._

"_Do you like it?" Morgan asked gently, watching her eat with an almost anxious expression._

_A smile crept across her face as she wiped it with the back of her hand, all the while trying to shake away the idea that she should be somewhere else, trying not to wonder when she had gotten this plate of already half eaten food, "...s'the best thing I've ever eaten."_

_Morgan smiled back and hugged her gently with one arm, "Aye...I guess you're wanting to go with Rob, hm?" And she almost cringed when he said it. Her mouth wanting to tell him that she did not want to give Rob the wrong idea and lead him on. But…that was stupid. He was her boyfriend._

_What she said instead was, "Um...well...we were...he's p-probably busy," and then Ali busied herself by returning to her food, "this is really good."_

"_Stop embarrassing her, Morgan," Eddie chuckled behind them, once again wrapping his arms about Morgan's torso._

_Morgan stiffened a bit under Eddie's… 'inappropriate' closeness, rolling his eyes with a sigh – Ali noticed though, that even then, he did not pull away from the touch as he once might have, deciding to simply smile at her, "Go on then..." he caressed her chin affectionately, "mingle. You're a big girl now. Sixteen years old." There was a note of pride in his voice, pride at the simple fact that she was sixteen._

_Quickly, Ali looked up towards Rob at the other side of the room and smiled softly. She kissed Morgan and Eddie on the cheek, and then she left. _

_She was so wrapped up in the sounds and smells of the party, she nearly jumped from her skin when the black bird let out a raucous caw from the water barrel next to her._

_It…stared at her, tilting its head as if in confusion. _

_It's asking what m'doin here, Ali thought. She looks funny without her chakr –_

"_Hey," Robbie said gently as he approached her._

_Ali started, and shook her head to see the (broken) Robbie._

"'_L-Lo," she stuttered a bit, feeling her face heating up already. Her thoughts on the bird muddled as they were already being forgotten. The taller former-Titan smiled at her, trying to speak, but the noise of the party drowned him out a bit – the happiness and the laughter, laughter of a heavy girl with the kindest heart she had ever…_

"_It's not like we can exactly shop or anything," Rob was telling her," but we do have a small pile of gifts... for you. It's another birthday thing," he explained._

"_I already got a gift from you last week" she said, fingers playing with the Celtic knot delicately, her thoughts coming back to the present._

_Rob smiled, "That was a gift for just being you," he said charmingly – and still her mind could not help but find that weird – moving through their friends, their family, "besides... This isn't only from me. A lot of us figured out things to give you." _

"_Y-You didn't have t'do that," she sputtered._

"_We did anyway," one of her friends chimed in wearing a green, faded sweater... a familiar shade. There was grease on his face and a smoking rib in one hand. She wanted to ask him when and why he started eating meat, didn't it bother him anymore?_

"_We can go over and open them together," Rob promised._

_Ali nodded and her mind turned over the sweater, bird, ketchup, laughter...a shudder tried to crawl up and down her spine as she moved with him. "Okay," she managed, leaning on him for quiet support in the crowd._

* * *

"This is impossible, are we getting anywhere?" Cyborg demanded, his cannon drilling into the roach's armor.

"You tell me, you're the one with the computers," Morgue replies, her Backbiter blast frying eyes as quickly as they appeared, glaring hatefully. "At least it can't really do much but try and shake us off. Where's G—Beast Boy?"

On cue, several gigantic, green tentacles sprouted from the water, wrapping themselves around the monstrosity, and trying to crush it.

"That answers that," Cyborg muttered. "My systems…don't know how to read this. It's clearly in pain, but who knows if that means anything.

"We are not used to such fights," a new voice piped in, and they turned to see Starfire floating down next to them. She spoke to them, but her eyes scanned for targets, and, when found, fried them. "We are not used to being insignificant to a threat that does not express any reaction to us beyond irritation. Even with Trigon and Aberration, we could see us making headway. This being will not display such things until we bypass the armor."

Cyborg nodded. "So, what you're saying is, this is a bitch."

Starfire spared him a brief grin. "Perhaps. I see Savior in need of assistance, however. Fight well, friends. Make use of your gifts."

* * *

_The gifts were simple, the best they could do with the situation they had been thrown into. Their effort at making her life just a little bit better, Ali all but embraced each one. Excitement and joy bloomed on her face with every unwrapping._

"_You better make good use of them," Morgan smiled as Ali got to his gift, a pair of his best knives. They glinted up at her, bright and shined. _

_Her reflection was strange, smaller and thinner. She stared at them with her head tilting like the funny bird, wondering why her hair was down, falling over one eye._

_Yet in spite of her thoughts, she nearly DID embrace the knives...only pausing at the last minute and thinking better of it. They laughed at her joy and she laughed with them as she moved onto her next gift. It was from Eddie and not nearly as dangerous to hold close. It was, simply enough, a camera. Nowhere near state-of-the-art or as updated as they had been when the world had all but ended._

"_...Edward Temple, you fucking idiot," Sam growled, shooting the feminine man the most venomous of looks._

"_Sam, I highly doubt she's going to be handing out snapshots of us to every Scavenger Squad and Fenris we come across," Eddie was dismissive of his leader's concern. Even more when the girl lifted the camera to snap a candid and no doubt rather unflattering shot of Robert. The gears clicked and whirred and she thought of waffles, of fast cars, and of saying boo-yah to her boyfriend, who was blinking the flash spots out of his eyes._

_The presents were gone…she was sitting at a table. There was a large chocolate cake studded in whipped cream and strawberries in front of her, glowing in the darkened tent as sixteen candles flickered with soft yellow light. Morgan looked pretty smug about the whole thing._

"_...wow," Ali and Jeanie were wearing similar looks of wonder. Jeanie, being less restrained at six, was trying to stick her fork into it. But Sam grabbed her little hand and held her close. The typically stern, militant man kissed her brow, "Not yet. Remember the birthday girl."_

_**Let her eat the damn cake**, Ali's mind whispered, **please jus' let her smile and be happy b'fore you have to-**_

"_Daddy, she's taking too long," the little girl whined, glancing at Ali imploringly._

"_It's 'cause we need the song," Rob smiled on Ali's side, holding on to her right hand. Her confusion was dissuaded before she could ask, when everyone began to sing, gently but cheerfully, for her._

"_Happy birthday to you."_

_Rock, pressure._

_Ali stared at them all, a bit wide eyed._

"_Happy birthday to you."_

_She withdrew a bit closer to Rob and smiled._

_Darkness, dampness. Massive migraine._

"_Happy birthday, dear Ali..."_

_That's not my name. Rib cracked, arms burned._

"_Happy birthday to..."_

_There was someone to her left, holding her other hand._

"_...you."_

_Ali turned looking down at her cupped hand. Three black wristbands, his fingers lost in hers, carrying with a familiar sharpness in them. Her friends were quiet, still looking at her lovingly and calmly, but no longer saying anything._

_Ali followed the hand holding hers up his arm and looked at his face._

_Golden eyes. A smile. A voice._

"_Shall we go then?"_

"_Go where?" she asked as if this was the most normal turn of events she could encounter, "C-can my family come?"_

_A soft squeeze._

"_Your family is already there."_

"_..." she turned and looked at the smiles of the others over the soft glow of candles on her cake, "No...th-they're right here."_

_Silence greeted her. The people waited. Turning back, Ali leaned over, somehow knowing to blow out the candles. Eddie and Morgan...looked sad._

"_My name is Adam."_

_Adam..._

_Morgan and Eddie looked...so sad because..._

_...Adam... Adam... _

_Robbie's grip was too tight, it hurt because..._

_A...dam..._

_Because Robbie was bleeding and broken on the ground behind her...because Morgan was screaming and Eddie was everywhere…because her name was not Ali. Her name was **Ryce**._

_**ADAM. **_

Ryce's eyes snapped open to see the glass of a storefront window come rushing towards her face.

The world came flooding back into her mind with barely enough time to raise her right arm to shield her face from impact. It came back with barely enough time for her to pop her left elbow back, wrist snapping forward to click the button on the contraption strapped to her left forearm that her jacket concealed—it split, revealing the hidden compartments from where three curved blades shot up into the air. Hissing black gobs of "fluid" fell onto her covered arm as they split open her brother's chest.

The sound of his pained and surprised roar was lost in the explosive shatter of glass around her. A turn of her arms was all she needed to roll over her shoulder when she hit the ground, glass crunching harmlessly beneath the padding of her new jacket. Using the momentum she placed a balancing hand on the ground and swung back around to see D'xias still on the sidewalk, a hand covering the gapping slash her blades had left in his torso. The flesh was already knitting, but slowly, so slowly by comparison to when Starfire's blast had curled and melted it black.

The drones were falling. The drones were falling and they still had over an hour at their disposal.

"Aw…is mummy's li'l goatlin' getting' beat up by the mean ol'Maggot?" Ryce grinned, spitting out a spattering of pink on the ground, head still ringing from where he slammed it into the pavement.

"It speaks…" her brother hissed in return, eyes and mouths surfacing all over his form, like bubbles over a boiling pot. "It speaks of triumph and silly dreams, hiding behind her little blades, cornered like the pigs you were made to slaughter, countless of them! For MY amusement," a twisted mockery of a smirk spread over the hand trying to soothe his wounds. His tar-blood seeped into the sharklike teeth and painted them rotten. When he spoke, it was with the crack of thunder, with the crunching of glass beneath the hooves as he moved into the tiny shop, "But I know you, sad abortion…No more tricks will save you."

"No more?" Ryce asked sweetly, backing away until her back collided with the wall, never losing the arrogant, if not slightly pained, grin on her face.

The monster gave an unconcerned shrug in his approach. "None that will matter…" through the snarling hatred came a black chuckle, "One anchor remains, and I am invincible."

His form blocked the shattered window that – as far as she could tell – was the only doorway to freedom. His movements were fast, but his rage at having the Maggot draw blood made them sloppy and unfocused. One of those long-fingered hands balled into a fist, shattered the wall where her head had been. The only reason she remained attached to it was a swift craned neck duck.

Left eye glowing, her left arm gained a grayish haze around it as she threw a low punch to D'xias' solar plexus. The baggy flesh of his torso bruised and dented without her fist ever making contact, the shade transposed over her taking the brunt of the impact. As her right fist flew in to deliver another blow, the shade leaning with her, D'xias' other hand moved to greet it. There was just enough time for his claw to catch her blow by the wrist, stopping it dead mere inches form his healing flesh and the orange eye that rolled up to its surface to blear at her hatefully.

Ryce looked up to see a snarling mouth that nearly severed the top half of his skull from his body.

"Then what's one more, eh?" she asked smiling and her right hand bent down at the wrist, causing a straight, medium length blade to pop out from within her coat and pierce that unblinking eye. A howl rang up from D'xias, the pain unlike any other he had ever felt as he jerked back and away from her, his twisting snapping the blade off, leaving it jutting from the ruined eye.

Ryce's smile only grew when she saw the ocular organ refuse to expel that metal or heal around it.

"Y'been keepin' up with your demonology brother? Ev'r wonder what these _children_ did with the sword that felled Lord Trigon?" Ryce panted, spitting more blood on the ground, her boldness fueled her to push forward and throw another punch with the broken edge of the Fang, "Should always be sure to keep those li'l piece of history in plain **sight**."

If she had been in the training room in the Tower, Noel would have yelled at her for being arrogant. He would have told her to leave the banter up to the fools of the world and just get the job done. Also, he would have informed her of how frankly **terrible **she was at it. She was not in the training room though, was she?

In a second, D'xias' cry ripped up into an angry roar and he surged forward catching her fist and crushing it without a second thought. Ryce had just enough time to let out a choked gasp of pain before his tendrils swept her legs out from under her…and before she hit the ground, a hoof reared up and delivered a cracking blow to her chest, ramming her into the ground. Her vision blurred around the edges when she tried to open her eyes, just enough to see her brother staggering out of the shop.

Through the haze of pain, Ryce was dimly aware of those tentacles wrapping tightly about her ankles, dragging her back through the yawning glass of the broken window with him.

* * *

"Now," Metatron said, stepping away from the hot-red patch in the creature's back.

Gauntlet nodded, gripping his giant, golden pickaxe and swinging it down with as much power as his enhanced strength granted.

The armor…caved in. Cracked.

The result was immediate: The creature gave off such a roar, even underwater, Scalpel lost his balance, and it attempted to trash wildly—it was only Beast Boy's tight grip on the creature that allowed his friends to keep from being thrown off, and even then, it was extremely close.

"What did you DO?" Robin demanded, landing by them.

"Heated a patch," Metatron replied somewhat breathily.

"Then I made with the Bam-Bams," Gauntlet replied. "It worked, armor caved in."

Robin stared.

"If you weren't on top of it, I'd have simply overheated the water,"Metatron said easily.

"Huh?" Gauntled blinked.

"It's not armor, it's a _shell_," Metatron explained, to further blank stares from the blond. "…Like a lobster. And that's what you do to loosen the shell on lobsters? …You people need to watch more Food Network."

"That…could work," Robin blinked.

Metatron shook his head. "Can certainly try, though it took a lot for this small patch to be dented. I can probably do it, but then there's the pesky notion of how to take care of it when I and maybe Star are the only ones that can get close enough without being boiled."

Robin was considering this when he heard the crackle of his COM link, over the sounds of sonic blasts and the roar of a none-too-happy drone. Maybe he had been listening for it, maybe he was just so hyperaware due to years of near abusive training that he could not help but always take note of it. Without pause, he launched a birdarang with mindboggling precision into a cluster of eyes in the creature's left flank and flicked his communicator out with the other hand.

"Ryce? Come in."

Even with the commotion their battle caused, the silence on the line felt heavy and thick.

Metatron's eyes focused slightly on him in a way that made him uncomfortable.

"Ryce?"

Static.

"…Ryce?"

* * *

_Sing it from the heart, sing it till you're nuts  
**Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts**.  
Sing it for the deaf, Sing it for the blind,  
**Sing about everyone that you left behind**._

Sing it for the world, Sing it for the world. ~** MCR**; SING


	17. Chapter 17

_You stormed off to scar the armada  
Like Jesus **played martyr**,  
**I'll drill through** your hands  
The stone for the curse you have **blamed me**  
With love and devotion, I'll **die as you sleep** ~ **Coheed&Cambria**_

* * *

"-_keeping watch. Lord Trigon's intentions for his spawn are hazy at this time."_

"_Aye…"_

"_The particular interest is being focused on the youngest female."_

"_M'sure…"_

"_The danger will increase as it approaches adulthood…compounding if it should leave Azarath."_

"_Most definitely."_

"_I believe we should send sister Jaellyn to investigate, Trigon will not be as cautious of one of his own."_

"_Hmm."_

"…_Father, are you listening?"_

_"Frankly, Christopher? No. You are borin'," Azrael shrugged, stretching back into his office chair with a yawn. In front of his desk, a massive form caught between that of a man and centipede stiffened, mandibles clicking with strained patience. Not deterred it continued, "Azarath is STILL your jurisdiction. It will be chaos if it falls and you are not prepared."_

"_Still borin.' Send your sister. Do you need me to hold all thirty-six of your hands or can you be a big boy and handle it on your own?" the Archangel raised a brow before returning to some papers on his desk, "When you are done bein' borin,' get Davenport on a line."_

"_She resents being called that, sir."_

"_Aye and m'sure her husband would resent her spawn's questionable paternity. Remind her of that if she complai-"_

_Chu!_

_The tiny squeak brought with it a violent reaction as nearly all of the insectoid legs seemed to shift, stamping along the floor. The bizarrely named Christopher did not simply click his mandibles this time, but let them drop open with a vicious hiss at the sudden sneeze. Its jerking movements were answered with a calm shift of the Marine's position from over in the corner to stand between the creature and the source of his anger. _

_The three-year-old blinked up with wide, frightened eyes at Xavius' feet, a stuffed animal in the shape of an anteater all but stuffed up against her mouth in a vain attempt to hide the allergy. _

"_Christopher…Davenport will not call herself," Azrael snarled in impatience, breaking the centipede's hateful stare. It was only several minutes after he had left that the Marine returned to his place against the wall. Several minutes before the blond toddler returned to her playing in the manner she had long ago been taught._

_In Silence._

* * *

…Silence…

The silence came from Ryce's teeth clenching together so tightly that small fissures were forming in the very enamel, a few mere pounds of pressure away from shattering them completely. _Shatter then_, she thought stubbornly, _jus'….don't spe-ARGH!_

The urge to scream rang through her, coming out only in a silent hiss as D'xias flexed two of the three claws impaled in her shoulder. They pinned her to the side of a building a few blocks from where she half-blinded her sibling.

"Call to them. Bring the hive home to save their precious Maggot."

A violent jerking of her head from side-to-side was her answer.

D'xias did not get angry, nor did he rage. He merely tilted his head to the side and lifted his clawed hand, dragging her up the wall and leaving her hanging in the air by her tearing wound.

Ryce's mouth cracked open in a silent scream, sparing her teeth the pressure she was inflicting on them, instead straining tiny threads of pink spittle between her lips. He was placing her COM into her hand and holding it up to her mouth, watching her…flexing his fingers again. It hurt…it hurt…she wanted it to stop. One word. One "Help" and it could stop. Eyes tearing in pain, she looked back down to D'xias.

* * *

A bleating roar shrieked out, of such frequency that it made Robin's teeth rattle, as flumes of green star-blasts flared out across the roach's body. Most hit their targets, sending the undead invertebrate into a panicked trashing. Its body seized in the foaming water, trembling uncontrollably as its tentacles thrashed up into the air towards the alien princess in vain. It did not like being helpless.

And still Ryce was not answering.

"Ryce? Report. Answer your COM, Ryce."

Robin looked up to watch Cyborg land on the drone's back, aiding Nigel's stabbings with minuscule, but accurate, blasts of his cannons. They were winning now. It was slow going but obvious. The Titan leader looked from the battle to his communicator, torn by finishing and the ominous silence.

Finally, the line crackled to life, and he could hear their maid laughing down the frequency in a queer-sounding voice, "All good, Fearless. Over and out."

And then the sound cut. Ryce's COM signal had gone red.

* * *

The plastic sparked and hissed in protest, pieces of yellow and wire crumpling out of her bleeding fist and to the ground. D'xias' disturbingly wide eyes – the two on his abdomen – followed their path as they fell. When he tilted his gaze back up, it was to find her staring down at him, defiantly.

What little her head could move, she used to crane her neck back before she spat blood into his upper eye.

"Fuck. You."

He did not pull his claws out from the wound. He ripped them through the flesh of her arm with a shriek, only to ball the hand into a fist and hammer it back down onto her shoulder. Ryce gave a grunt of pain and pulled her other hand up from one of her many pockets, even as a knee flew up to crash into her stomach. A device she had pilfered from the evidence room glinted briefly in her hand before a squeeze of its trigger sent two wired probes latching unto her brother's bare chest.

The current ripped down the tazer's wires with a low, thrumming crackle. Her brother's eyes bulged out with his ill-fitted skin as it attempted to contract along his body, with tentacles that lashed out around him in an obscene halo under the bolts of electricity.

Ryce didn't continue the assault relentlessly, instead instantly stumbled to the side to get out from between his body and the wall trapping her. Clumsy and winded, the adrenaline fueling her slowly petering out, Ryce did not comprehend the significance of D'xias forcing himself forwards against her. Raising her hands to push him away, she found her cheek and hand flattened against his chest in between the probes of the stun gun.

The flow of power found new currents in her flesh, ripping down her face and palm. Ryce gave a strangled, 'gurk,' sound as her legs tensed and then crumpled out from under her, momentarily paralyzed by her own poorly thought-out defense. Left trembling on the ground, she released the gun trigger on reflex.

"Foolish…foolish, foolish little girl," D'xias hissed above her, black tentacles twisting tightly around Ryce's limbs as the current finished flowing through her. Her heart hammered and her vision cleared as the limbs lifted her up off the ground. Then, they began to pull, pressure and pain thudding in sharp pulses that made lights dance before her eyes.

"Fond memories of this approach," he whispered, a mouth twisting up unto the surface of his liquid face, splitting it in a vertical, rictus grin. Her bones strained…ligaments and joints gave painful pops to warn of their imminent tearing, "You remember. I killed your beloved sodomite like this, did I not? Tell me, sister, was your mouth open when his blood splashed across your face?"

_(…Morgan was howling…oh god…blood…she could taste it…Robbie, help me…Eddie…oh god please, not my Eddie…not him. Please no nonoNOTHIM…)_

"Oh Alaryce, did you love them? Did you love the broken, tin soldier, the drunken mick, and the pretty, little faggot? While you rolled in the ground, choking in their disgusting filth, their mud drowning you with their taint and their words and hungry touch – _**Did you love them**_?" D'xias growled as her shoulder popped from its socket, and her brother delighted in watching the bruised flesh stretch.

"…Ssssshut…u-uh….uh…pp," Ryce hissed, before a tendril over took her mouth for silence. Entwined around her head…it began to squeeze.

He chuckled blackly at the tentacles – still twisting, squeezing, pulling, rending – that guided her close, right up to him so he could whisper in her ear, "Would you like to know what it is _**I**_ love?

He could feel her trying to bite his appendages. He took glee in her helplessness. He waited for an 'answer' he knew she was not capable of uttering. And then his hold tightened.

"Cracking. Your. **Skull**."

For one brief moment, the limbs holding her airborne seemed to tense, and then she was on the ground. Pain rang through a sensitive body that was already working into overdrive to mend and heal the damage her brother had caused. D'xias' howls rang sharply in her ears, her eyes cracking open to see the remnants of his tentacles laying about in spasms, sliced off his body. Before she could work through the pain to question their severance, a golden goat's head of energy rocketed into the center of D'xias' chest, propelling him away from her and his lost limbs.

"Sorry, this scene was getting a little too Japanese for me."

Warm hands were lifting Ryce, helping to guide her back to her own two feet. Stupidly, she blinked up at the blond who was supporting her weight and keeping her balance for her.

Gauntlet smiled at her, but Ryce could see the worry in his eyes behind it. It was laced through his voice when he spoke, "You said you could handle this."

Why that struck Ryce as funny she was not quite sure. But funny she found it all the same as a trickle of blood fell from her nose and her voice drawled out in a chuckle, "I liiiiiied," she grinned. There must have been blood in her teeth, because Gauntlet grimaced at the sight. "…'too Japanese'?"

"Uh," the blond blinked, successfully distracted. "…You know, cause…tentacles."

"…Racist, Robbie," she chuckled, abruptly breaking off with a groan of pain.

Whatever Gauntlet was going to reply, he once again replaced it with a tone of obvious concern, "Can you stand?"

"Let go and find out, I guess," Ryce hissed, discomfort wracking her body as she healed the wounds her exhaustion would allow. When the Titan's hands released her, there were a few tense seconds where her feet seemed far too content to falter beneath her weight. Soon enough though, she found her stable footing.

"How close are we to finishin' this nonsense, Robbie?" she asked, her words weary and worn.

"The roach is on its last lack of legs. We need to buy them fifteen more minutes at the most. Maybe even less."

Ryce tried not to grimace at his optimism. Fifteen more minutes. It was a lot when every cell in your body was all but shrieking at you to drop where you stood. She was not about to tell him that though, instead giving a nod, taking a few gimping steps backwards, her mind turning the building she recalled seeing about a half a block behind them.

"I can get you your fifteen if you can get me five."

"Got a plan?"

"Hmm. A plan? I like that, le's call it that. It make s'sound like I know what m'doin' doesn't it?'"

"…We're both gonna die, aren't we?"

"Reply hazy, try again later!" Ryce called over her shoulder as she began a high-speed limp away from him. The girl disappeared behind a wall, only to reemerge seconds later, completely free of her limp, replaced by the strip of rubber she had forgotten to remove from her arm.

Unfortunately, Gauntlet saw none of this. Instead his attention was solely on the raging road and debris that exploded from the rubble, and the shield he had to summon a second later when D'xias' cracked hooves sought to shatter his body.

Ryce didn't bother picking up the final adrenaline shot her shaky hands had dropped. If the burning sensation and the hammering of her heart was any indication, she was a dose away from doubling over in a cardiac episode. Even ignoring these symptoms of oncoming collapse, she could not ignore the pain in her arm where the needle had broken off during her last injection. Something that was going to hurt A LOT more tomorrow, she was sure.

_If there IS a tomorrow_, her mind echoed morbidly.

Ryce stopped thinking when she reached the first pump…fat lot of help it was doing her anyway.

* * *

"You all…" D'xias' slimy voice crawled down Gauntlet's spine as his tentacles whipped around trying to grab him. "You disgusting swamp of dung…you all look the _same_ to me," he jumped forward as Gauntlet slid back, heavily on the defense, "but I _know _you, don't I?" a line opened along his tentacles, and Gauntlet tried not to react to the overwhelming, rancid stench of the creature's breath, to the sight of those razor-sharp, needle-like teeth in his many mouths. Ryce had faced this, so could he. "I _killed _you. Oh yes…I made sure to remember. Your spine cracking…like dried leaves on the autumn. And her scream—"

"You talk far too much for someone without a mouth," Gauntlet cut him off tightly, before back-flipping to avoid a black, mouth-ridden tendril bursting up from the ground beneath his feet. He decided not to comment on the irony of this thing calling anything else disgusting, knowing he needed to keep his head in the game. He did make a note to bring it up later, though.

D'xias laugh was rich this time, carrying an unsettling sense of enjoyment and purity – he really loved nothing more than being here, doing this. Gauntlet shuddered: He only heard the goat's bleat beneath it. "Of course, yes, I understand. Why reminiscence?" Gauntlet's eyes went wide as the tentacle seized on to his ankle, slamming his back into the ground and dragging him back to the monster, its eyes spiraling into existence to look at him with hungry. "Actions…" it began, "they say much more than wor – _**ARGHHHHH!**_"

The Titan finished slicing through the tentacle, cutting D'xias' scream short with a – somewhat desperate – kick to what could be called its head. The monster fell backwards and Gauntlet jumped to his feet and fell further back for more distance, towards where he knew Ryce had gone. He really hoped that was part of the plan, and suddenly found himself annoyed that the girl had taken the time to be cute about it but not to give more precise instructions. But that was just like her, he mused with a grin.

"Sorry," he took the time to quip. Golden constructs flew from his body and became hands that seized on to the recovering 'angel' as tightly as he could make them, "a little too close for a first date. Plus, beings of all sizes, shapes and religions find you offensive to look at, so there's that."

D'xias started snarling, but Gauntlet didn't give him the chance. Instead he heaved the monster in an upwards arch and slammed him as hard as he could on the other side of the street, with a crash that shook the whole street.

…And Gauntlet instantly knew something was wrong: The impact had felt off – Padded.

D'xias' tentacles had rushed to cushion his body at the last second, absorbing most of the fall.

A gasp escaped Gauntlet when said tentacles wrapped around him in a twisted mimicry of his previous actions, and tug him towards the righting, grinning monstrosity. Evidently, D'xias had learned from previous errors, instantly letting go of the hero after the initial tug, and letting gravity do the rest.

Gauntlet started at the mass of nightmarish claws, tentacles, fangs and hatred waiting for him and wisely chose to bring up his shield around himself, ready to slam into the enemy like a wrecking ball.

It was a very fortunate decision, as the attack came from an unexpected direction. A sharp, incredibly hard weight collided into his back, and in turn slammed him into the ground with a painful scream – though he had protected his back as well, he hadn't been as thorough as the front, something that D'xias had perhaps expected.

Groaning, Gauntlet tried to stand.

"No."

When you're a superhero, fights often come with low moments, often humiliating ones. It came with the job. Most often at the beginning of your career, before you got some experience. Before the conditioning set in. Alerts to situations like being prone on the ground in front of a dangerous enemy, and they said 'no'.

As such, Gauntlet was hurling himself to the side before D'xias had finished speaking.

_CRASH!_

Gauntlet slid back, back on his feet, and glared at his previous spot – at D'xias' 'tail' embedded deep on it, the rolled-up mass of hardened flesh with spikes piercing painfully all over it, giving it the impression of a morning star mace.

So that's what hit him.

"Good. I was afraid I had broken you already," D'xias mused. "I always forget how fragile you are…like snowflakes."

The tail lashed out with no warning, but Gauntlet saw it coming.

What he didn't see coming was his cavalry, as, in a confusing blur, Ryce slammed down before him – with such force, the pavement cracked and D'xias actually paused his attack – her body humming with the hazy grey of a shade.

Her landing was perfectly followed by a manhole cover besides her bursting from the ground like a kernel of popping corn. Her wings faded into her back, and Ryce spun mid-crouch, arms held out, propelling the cover as if it were nothing more than a Frisbee. Gauntlet could not help but cringe when the metal disk caved D'xias' skull with a wet crunch.

"Sewers now!" Ryce yelped, dragging him down into the open manhole.

They hit the ground with a splash, neither blond caring to think about what exactly it was they were ankle-deep in. Above them, they could hear the shrieking brays of the half-angel, probably attempting to put his head back together.

"…has anyone told you lately how psychotically frightening you are sometimes?" Gauntlet asked, helping her stand.

"Has anyone told you lately how weird t'is that the psychotically frightenin' make your pheromone levels jump?"

"…you can smell that?"

"Yup."

"…and we will never speak of this moment again."

Ryce's eyes widened as she looked back at the pavement above them, "Less talky, more walky!"

The why's became apparent when debris began to rain down on them in chunks, writhing masses of tendrils ripping through the street above them. It was a powerful incentive to swiftly move away, as razor-lined mouths and raging orange eyes bubbled up onto the never-ending length of the tentacles. They looked at them, unforgiving.

"LEFT!" Ryce cried over the sounds of crashing rubble, going so far as to shove Rob into the opening. Later, Robert may have questioned the wisdom in following the battle commands of the all-too-green 'soldier' Ryce had assumed herself to be. For now though, all he could be was confused when instead of following his path, she broke off and went right.

He couldn't dwell on it, ducking quickly from a snapping maw that attempted to shear his right ear off. With a jerk of his arm, an oversized set of toy clacker-teeth – cartoony feet at its base and all – appeared and clamped itself down over the striking tendrils.

His elation at the strike was short-lived, as, behind it, the path was utterly blocked by an oncoming mass of writing, toothed death. Somewhere behind the flesh wall piling towards him, a voice barked at him to 'keep runnin'!'

Leaping, the blond Titan sprinted around a corner, careful to keep his footing as he tried to stay ahead of the rending limbs behind him. His ears ringed with the crashing and crumbling of the walls as D'xias tore through them without restraint. Perhaps it was just his imagination that he felt the brush of one of those tendrils near his neck – but the myriad of porcupine-like yellow spines that speared up from his back took care of that either way.

Paranoid? A little. But alive.

Not nearly as much as he would have liked – on both counts – as upon arriving into a four-way split, a force crashed into his left side, tackling them both to the ground. It was only luck that the spiked Gauntlet-fist missed wrecking into his diminutive "assailant's" face when she tried to haul him up.

"Up! Up, up!"

Robert nodded mutely, grappling onto Ryce and practically dragging her along behind him as the two sets of tentacles, unable to pause in their pursuit's momentum, smashed into one another behind them. Both spared a glance to see the tendrils looping and intertwining with one another, teeth snapping and slashing into their own, like mindless pack animals confused as to whether their constraints contained prey or not.

Splashing back into the dark, they did not wait for them to figure it out.

* * *

There was wild hatred in the streets above.

Forgoing any delusion of humanity, D'xias' hooked and hunched form positively vibrated in tune with his bleated roars, his claws tearing at the street and his hooves and tail trampling at the world around him, while sections of the street gave way where his tentacles flooded the sewer tunnels. Orange eyes bubbled and burst along his skin like in an angry boil – like disgusting, disfigured pimples, being popped. Even his mouth, all along his stomach, tore into the pavement beneath him, devouring it by the chunks.

Yet, through his rage and his hunt, he still heard the cough.

His movement stilled, except for his tentacles – they refused to stop beneath the ground, snarling, snapping, and rustling like a humongous bag of buried snakes. With a gnashing snarl of impatience, eyes burst open along his back, facing the noise.

Gauntlet and Ryce stood several yards away. Ryce sauntered her way lazily up to Robert's side, her eyes glittering madly behind the battered frames of her goggles. Her movements remarkably relaxed, almost fluid, when compared to the tense, battle-ready stance of the Titan glancing worriedly at her.

"Lookin' for somethin', then?" Ryce asked him as she pawed at one of her pockets with a bloodied hand.

Perhaps incapable of speech at this point, D'xias let out a deep growl and made to lunge for her. However, he was like a dog on a too-short leash: His tentacles tangled in the tunnels snapped his form back, tethering him to the ground. Strain and try as he might, the bird nesting of knots was not an easy puzzle to unravel.

"Ouch, nasty mess you made of yourself, bro," Ryce chuckled.

"…You mock me?…_YOU?_" D'xias say in a slow, quiet voice, almost incredulous.

Ryce's only response was to chuckle further.

"You…will not walk out of this one," her brother whispered, each word gaining a certain momentum that Gauntlet tensed by. "You will crawl with the _worms feasting on your disgusting well-mounted body…I'LL REDUCE YOU TO NOTHING AND HAVE YOUR LITTLE BRIGADE FEAST ON YOUR EYES WITH MANIC GRINS RESERVED FOR SUCCULENT TREATS! YOUR TONGUE WILL ONLY GO LAST ONCE I TIRE OF YOUR SCREAMS…but that won't be for LONG, long yet, Maggot,_" The man-beast hissed, "I'll make you watch as I devour the Tin Solider's _**FLESH!**_"

Ryce chuckled and removed from her pocket, a pack of cigarettes, popping a match on one of her own fangs before sticking the smoke into her mouth with practiced ease, "How're goin' t'do that if y'rip out my eyes? Not a very well laid out plan."

"Ryce, do NOT taunt, Cthulu," Gauntlet groaned.

"Pffft. He wishes," she sneered, taking a few drags on the cigarette, "So…Doxy…dearest Doxy…"

"RIP! TEAR! DISEMBODIED LIKE THE FAGGOT DOCTOR! CHOKED LIKE THE DRUNK ORPHAN-DAD! _BEGGING LIKE THE CHILD, THE DWARF, LIKE __**ALL OF THEM IN THE END! **__DID THEY TEACH YOU TO __**BEG!**__ YOUR HUMANS, __**DID THEY!**_"

Robert had no word for what he saw in Ryce's eyes at that moment. He did not understand what it was – whose memory it was – that D'xias was sullying. Ryce had loved them though. And that was all that mattered. All he needed to know.

Ryce picked up a bottle lying amongst the wreckage of the streets, her mouth stretching back to reveal her too-sharp teeth in a mockery of a smile.

"No. They never taught me to beg, D'xias," she whispered as she pressed her cigarette into a white rag. "…they showed me how to make a bitchin' Molotov cocktail, though."

The flaming bottle shattered against D'xias' chest with a musically explosive crash. Ryce barely flinched, as her brother shrieked, blazing limbs trashing and sending embers down to the wet pavement below him. Gauntlet stared, dumbstruck by this new side to his friend – though a part of it was trying desperately to understand why it was the pavement was wet. It seemed important.

He had been too caught up in Ryce's words, in keeping an eye out should her brother break free of his restraints. It was such an overpowering smell, Gauntlet was boggled that he had missed it, though after D'xias' breath, perhaps it was allowed.

The monster was standing in a puddle of spilled gasoline. He didn't have to ask who it was that dumped it there, though he was curious as to where she had gotten it. Or when she had managed to do it without anyone's notice for that matter.

The puddle caught with a hissing flume, further roasting D'xias' trampling legs, his body unable to get away by his trapped tentacles. It was almost fascinating in how horrifying and loud the spectacle was. But Gauntlet had to look away, his stomach turning.

It was that turn that allowed the Titan to see that the puddle ended in a trail, carefully leading towards the building behind the raging half-angel.

…the gas pumps.

With a cry of dismay, Gauntlet surged forward a step and grabbed onto Ryce, gold springing up around them both as the snake of flame disappeared into the pried-open tank covers.

Even when the world outside disappeared in a flash of orange and a deafening boom, Ryce's biting grin did not flinch.

* * *

Robin had to admit, this was getting tedious. He slashed at a cluster resurfacing for the third time, and ran along the giant cockroach. His teammates were probably having similar thoughts as they hammered on, always hoping that their next blow would finally be the one that sunk the monster.

Beastboy probably had it worse, being forced to hold still, doing nothing but pinning the thing down and waiting for the rest of them to beat it. It had to be the most boring of jobs. Even Terra had stopped her whirlpool out of exhaustion, trusting her Boyfriend not to let it move by this point.

It was strange to look at this whole thing like he was, Robin knew, but this drone had not been meant for fighting – its job was to ram into enemies, and then burrow deep into the ground for safety. Floating helplessly in the water, unable to gain any momentum or to reach the soil to burrow, it was completely helpless and could only wait around until they did enough damage to kill it.

It was a brilliant strategy. They didn't translate well to epic fights.

He'd take boring and safe any time, though. At least he wasn't feeling uncomfortable with the concept of mercilessly pummeling on a creature that could not defend itself. It was, after all, trying to erase all existence in the universe.

On that note, he flung several explosives at various hot-zones in the monster, the resulting _boom_ drawing another cry of rage from their captive. If nothing else, Robin grinned, it was taking it longer and longer to regenerate. And from what he had seen thus far…a plan began to form.

And then they all paused when the sky on their city went up in thunderous flames.

"Oh good," Metatron's calm voice spoke up, landing next to Robin, "Rob found her. That's a relief," quickly, he snapped out his COM. "Any reason why you didn't think to let us know you found her?"

* * *

"Things unexpectedly came up," Gauntlet replied testily. His ears were still ringing, despite the cushioning his tool had provided him and Ryce. The battered dome protecting them faded back, allowing warm, burnt-smelling air to hit them.

The fires hadn't completely gone out, but they were receding. The street itself was in ruins, cracked and destroyed, debris loosening and falling even as he kept watching, destroyed buildings and pieces of buildings littered the ground. Except for a perfect circle around them – a result of his shield – everything was at least mostly covered by black soot. Metatron was saying something in the COM, but Gauntlet was only half listening, and in clearing his throat to reply, he turned to Ryce.

And froze.

The Titan's mind ridiculously thought of a goldfish at the sight of the girl's bulging eyes and puckering, quivering lips. Her friend was clutching at her chest, and her face was taking a bluish hue, and fumbled her hand over her jacket with a franticness that completely contradicted her previous cool. There was such a deep panic and fear in her eyes that it sent Gauntlet's heart racing.

"Crap!" he shouted, pulling her close. "Crap, she…she…"

"Rob-" Metatron's voice crackled in.

"She's having an asthma attack!" Gauntlet cried, cursing himself for not noticing earlier – cursing himself for not expecting it at all: They'd been running and fighting like madmen for what felt like hours, plus what she had been doing before he got here, and now they had finally slowed down, of _course _she was going to have an attack!

"Rob."

Gauntlet racked his brain for the right procedure to treat this, lying Ryce flat.

"Left chest pocket, Rob," Metatron said, with a touch of impatience. "I've been telling you that for the last two minutes."

"Huh?" Gauntlet thought outloud. Not bothering to wait for an answer, his hands ripped into the jacket and the cool touch of metal told him all he needed to know, pulling out the inhaler and giving Ryce a long, breath-giving puff.

The girl gasped as her lungs unclogged, and she relaxed. Robert wanted to be relieved by the slight color that returned to her, but the fact that she was still wheezing, still clutching her chest and coughing, coupled by her instantly trying to get up after her brush with asphyxiation, brought such notions to a halt.

By the time he had gotten her to sit still, she was gasping for air again, though not as bad as before.

"Well you sound like you have absolutely everything under control, munchkin," Metatron piped in.

"She, ah, she's giving you a thumbs-up," Gauntlet informed him. The girl seemed to sense something more to the words that had escaped the Titan, but it was clear she wanted that conveyed.

There was some sudden shifting on the other side of the COM, before a new voice spoke. "Gauntlet," Robin's voice came. Gauntlet straightened for his leader, but he also noted that despite not even looking at them, Ryce seemed annoyed, "report."

"Sorry, ears still ringing a bit," the Titan replied. "But…yes, we're alive, your concern's touching – though Ryce was having an asthmatic episode…I think she still is."

"Of _course _she was playing martyr. Do you need Scalpel?" Robin cut in, concerned. Ryce seemed to relax a bit, which also broke her into a cough-wheezing fit.

"…No, I don't think so," Gauntlet said after a moment of deliberation, "the inhaler took care of the immediate danger. She just needs to _stay STILL_," he added those last words with a direct look to his friend – but she still wasn't looking at him, her tired and flushed face and sharp, hissing breaths coming in direct contrast with the sharpness in her eyes.

He didn't have to guess where she was looking.

"…hat explosion?" Robin was saying.

He followed his friend's gaze, and found the street as destroyed as he remembered it. But this time, amongst the wreckage and the debris, he saw what he had overlooked before: The clawed, broken fingers sticking out of some rocks that used to be a building, hissing blood oozing into the pavement. That hand was attached to a body, mostly out of sight, but now that he was paying attention, he caught glimpses of that too.

Bloodied. Misshapen. Smoking. …Groaning.

Ryce let out a growl that was equals part satisfaction and apprehension.

Gauntlet took a second to clear his head before answering. "Ryce blew up a gas station on her brother."

"What?" Robin cried.

"Yeah, she's our very own Al Qaeda, alright. It got him. Badly." Gauntlet replies, standing slowly. Only that made Ryce turn to him. "…You're hurt," he says softly. "You need rest."

Ryce continued to stare. "…Ro…" she trailed off in a cough, but continued stubbornly, "…Robbie…"

The unasked question hung heavily in the air.

Gauntlet looked at her, and then down at his namesake. The gold sword bloomed fluidly into his hand, solid and deadly.

"…I'll take care of it," he said, hoping it sounded reliable.

Ryce nodded, settling back. Gauntlet was a little surprised that was enough for her. But then, as he started walking towards that smoking form, he probably shouldn't be.

"What about the roach, Robin?"

* * *

The Titan leader looked to his team.

It hadn't been easy to convince Metatron to stay with them rather than go after Ryce (indeed, Robin suspected he hadn't been happy), but having Gauntlet go had been for the best – Metatron's oddly versatile heating abilities were important for his plans. He didn't exactly understand them, or his limits, or the effect on his body, but Robin had figured out pretty early that the demon's obscene displays of firepower were a form of cheating: Metatron rarely used his own well of power, instead using outsides sources of heat, including the air around them, and redirecting it for his own needs. This was how he could seemingly pull off tricks that would bring other, more powerful, creatures to their knees. Robin didn't know what this meant for Metatron's actual level of power, but he assumed he wasn't a lightweight regardless, rather having a more obvious restriction.

It was a bizarre experience to realize he fought in such an apparently complex style, but useful to their current needs. He glanced up to his significant other, flying in a close, tight circle over the monster, picking up more and more speed. She was little more than a red blur by this point. Even so, the starbolts rained down with unerring aim onto a special spot in the creature's back, near the middle, where three metal plates met and overlapped. And it wasn't her alone: While most of the others continued their individual attacks, Cyborg poured his sonic cannon on to the patch, with Sophie's Backbiter offering its occasional blast. Robin winced – she hadn't been happy when Scalpel questioned their actions and, upon being informed, responded by flinging a sizable amount of his blood, results of his many injuries thus far, into the mix. The Teen Wonder himself had been absentmindedly hurling his own explosives while talking with Ryce.

And none of it was going anywhere. The attacks, the explosions, the blasts – the _heat_. There was no smoke or steam, or even a rise of temperature an inch beyond the spot. The physical force of the attack was still felt, but none of the warmth escaped, trapped without release in the monster's hide. Metatron stood before the spectacle of light, breathing in and out with his strange shroud of golden steam boiling with every exhale. The only real indication that he was working was that he didn't blink at all as he stared passively at the monster's hide, his half-lid eyes glittering subtly.

By this point, the creature's roars were tinted with something else – a groaning bleat, a sense of discomfort…worry, even. Robin grinned. It had taken a long time, but looks like he had found the right place.

"We're almost there," he finally said. "Get ready."

* * *

"…Roger," Gauntlet replied quietly, lowering his arm.

"…heh…eheh…"

Gauntlet's jaw set. The thing before him was a broken mockery of what D'xias once was as much as D'xias himself was a broken mockery of life. It hadn't taken long to reach him – indeed, he had even brushed the debris aside and made sure he was still in Ryce's sights – and even less for his gauntlet to restrain what was left of his arms, legs, tail and tentacles. Having the gold clamps bite down harshly on his bruised, smoking body dragged a shriek of agony from the creature. Gauntlet tried not to enjoy it.

Yet, still…the thing chuckled.

His grip on the sword tightened.

"I don't get many dramatic stand-offs, so maybe this is the inexperience talking," he said through clenched teeth, "but I think you're doing it wrong."

D'xias' form shifted as much as it could…which turned out it was more than Gauntlet's stomach was comfortable with. The ruined husk that lay before him should not have been alive. But he was.

The purple-grey flesh was stretched, and torn at places, horribly burnt and peppered with disgusting, oozing sores all over his body. He had black, veiny muscles, Gauntlet discovered, exposed by the already-infected sores, pulsing without rhythm, and somehow _sweating _an even blacker tar-like ichor with every pulse – his blood. Bones were also exposed, rotten yellow and seemingly far too brittle to sustain him, sticking out in places where they had been broken, or where the skin and muscle had been burnt clean off.

When he 'chuckled', the whole disarray shuddered, and what had once been the chest inflated and…_shifted_, the insides of it filling with thick fluids and solid matter that strained against the skin, threatening to spill out, before turning inwards again. It reminded for of a plastic bag filled with chunky soup.

Perhaps it was healing. In fact, he probably was. But the progress was slow, there might as well not be any.

Gauntlet had to fight down his vile with a shuddering breath, and stepped closer, only to pause when his sneaker came down on something wet and thick. He looked down without thinking, and saw the wet, black patch of smoking fur, attached to the severed hoof.

"…_ohhhh…!_" he cried before he could stop himself, staggering backwards. His hand flew to his mouth, the sight, the feel, the _smell_ hitting him all at once from where he had tucked them away in a tiny box in his mind, unable to contain it. Despite his life, Robert Candide had never seen a lot of gore.

It took tremendous will to fight it back this time. But he did.

Regardless, D'xias seemed to find that only funnier, as he roared with amused laughter, his entire body bursting with twisted mirth.

"…wrong…?" his voice chuckled – but there was no mistaking the weakness on it. Gauntlet wondered where his mouth was, and decided that he was happy without that knowledge. "…absurd…this situation…_a…absurd_…" his voice hissed, gaining an edge of darkness. "…_the __**mAGgoT**__..._" Gauntlet's eyes hardened at the hatred. "_**She **__did…__**THIS? **_She…" a single, violently orange and black-bloodshot eye burst on his side, staring at Gauntlet – there was nothing fluid in the appearance, unlike before, the skin tore itself open, shedding tears of tar-blood instantly, "thought to _hurt me? _He…h…eheh…he…oh yes…Ithink…once I'm **donehere**…this warrants areminderof w…whyfightingback only results…in her pets' _guts_forced down her _tinyth…throat…!_"

Gauntlet bristled under the words, forgoing his revulsion and stepping forward, no longer caring what was underfoot. "I don't think you get it," he growled, twirling his sword and aiming it down into its eye. "You're _beaten. _You're _trapped. _Your drones are all but gone, and once the 'but' is out…" the sword's point pressed slowly into the eye, and the Titan's ears were treated to a horrible shriek that had his teeth rattling when it popped. The boy swallowed and steeled his expression. "You're done. There's no magic bullet coming, Houdini's a long dead hack, and there's no MacGyver trick involving rock and your own tangible repulsiveness that you can use to turn the tables. It's _over_."

The silence that followed didn't feel triumphant. For Gauntlet, it felt heavy with some sort of scrutiny, with a tension that mounted and had him struggling not to blink.

The line spread down D'xias shoulder, along the left lung.

"…Over…"

The mouth tore itself open, much like the eye, tar-blood and violently yellow pus oozed out quickly, staining needle-teeth and flesh. Robert's eyes widened at the sight and he fought the urge to step back. It chuckled tauntingly at him.

"And you…would be _my_ executioner…little soldier?" D'xias giggles. "You…with your trembling l…legs…your doe eyes…" the tiny needles brushed against the sword, unconcerned. Gauntlet thought he saw something move inside that mouth. "Your glit…tering arm and baby face…your other would have done it…but…not…you."

Gauntlet growled, trying not to show how he was affected. "I…_hate_…Silence of the Lambs…Every time I try to get a bad guy to understand a situation in which they're beaten, I have to sit through another variation of _'Hello, Clarisse! Am I trapped in here with you, or are YOU trapped in here with MEEE? Woooo, look how scary I am in this completely prone and defenseless position!'_" he scowled and pushed the sword further into his mouth. "Let's get this straight: You're trying to destroy my world. You want to hurt my friend, and kill the rest of the people I love, and everyone else that exists, to boot. I can think of lesser reasons to be willing to kill someone. So don't insult me by pretending you know how I tick, and let's just cut to the part where you're fucked, mmmkay?"

The silence this time was more satisfying.

"…Is that so…?" the voice finally whispered.

And the mouth widened, opening further to allow more light to penetrate its insides. And Gauntlet found himself staring at caved-in ribs, the punctured, festering lung; and at the black form, like a shriveled plum, stuck there. It would occasionally withdraw into itself erratically, as if squeezed, and, like the muscles, it sweated black tar.

With a start, Robert realized he was looking at D'xias' heart.

"Prove…it…"

* * *

"Robin."

Robin looked to Metatron, and understood, taking out each and every one of his freeze disks from his belt.

The Titans without a specific part on his plan had stopped their attacks when the clusters stopped regenerating, and stood on Terra's rock, waiting. He gave his signal and the rest did the same, followed by him.

"Star…" he spoke up, the red circle above whistling with speed.

Metatron jumped back to the rock as well, and Robin hurled his disks into the patch as he did. The demon landed, the concentrated power of the projectiles flash-froze the extremely hot shell, making him stumble and hold his head. Robin waited.

The extremely-hot-then-extremely-cold patch of armor…cracked.

"**NOW!**"

Beastboy let go of the roach and fled. The roach, perhaps surprised by its sudden freedom, didn't follow.

Nor did it get a chance to, as the crimson comet fell from the skies and crashed into the spiderweb cracks…and shattered them like glass.

"HAH!" Robin grinned as the roach roared in agony, as the emerald beams flashed from inside the beast and as his team poured on the exposed flesh.

In took less than five seconds for the roach to start sinking. He was already reaching for his COM.

* * *

"Your boasting…where is it…?" D'xias purred, his rotten lips cutting themselves on the sword with no concern. His heart continued its macabre imitation of beating, unconcerned by the danger. "Come…shining knight…it's your time…the glory…the victory…the mounting of the maggot in sweet gratitude…all within reach…with one…simple…murder…_DO IT…_"

"You really seem to think this is a matter of me not wanting to do it," Gauntlet said through clenched teeth. "It isn't: I _WILL _end you. It's just not time yet. Trust me; this isn't a hard decisi–"

At that moment, D'xias' entire body shuddered again, to the point where his heart stabbed itself slightly against the sword – Gauntlet's eyes widened and he pulled his blade back.

D'xias responded with a hideous bark of laughter, a flat eye tearing open to stare unblinkingly at him. "_**IT'S TIME!**_" he mocked. "_**DO IT NOW!**_"

Gauntlet's brain froze, unable to process, when his COM blared to life.

"ROB! Rob, it's time!" Robin's voice crackled, unaware that he was repeating the monster's words. "DO IT NOW!"

And for a second, Gauntlet was overwhelmed by confusion and bewilderment. For that moment, he hesitated.

D'xias laughed.

"ROB!"

It was Ryce's voice that snapped him out of it – a strained, pleading voice, clearly finally managing a shout after several attempts.

"AAAAAHHHHH!" Gauntlet roared, stabbing the sword down.

It never occurred to him that she could be yelling out a warning.

Even as he stabbed, he felt the pressure on his neck, strong enough to make him stumble few steps to the side, causing the sword to miss the heart entirely, and instead sinking into the lung, before it faded from sight.

As far as surprise attacks went, the blond found himself pondering its anticlimactic nature as he lifted a hand to gingerly touch his neck. The spines jutted out of it, barbed beneath the surface of his skin, feeling not unlike a particularly small cluster of bee stings. He looked down at his tails, at its jutted spines – it was still bound by his power, but it had seemingly spent some time scratching against the battered concrete, enough to give it the required leverage to fling its projectiles.

His COM was calling out…the roach had fallen. It was time. The spines were oddly…wet. In a haze, Robert Candide pulled his hand away from his neck to find his fingertips stained black. Black and tarry and–

There was no way for him to articulate what happened. It spread from his neck like liquid napalm. Both hands flew up to grapple and claw at those spines, his mouth dropped open into a throat-rending shriek. Even as he ripped them from his skin, the fire consumed him. Unbearable pain that made death seem a mercy. Blood bubbled up from his throat as he screamed it raw, unaware of it as much as of the tears leaking from his eyes. He tried to stumble away from the half-angel as the golden restraints faded with their wielder's will.

He was dimly aware, through the haze of agony, that D'xias was growing entered his mind – but that wasn't right. His legs had given out from under him, his knees slamming into the pavement, with a soft discomfort that seemed a blessing compared the molten pain clawing at him. His hands fell uselessly to his sides and the shrieks, with their liquid quality, began to tamper off into soft gurgles. Blue eyes widening, Robert felt a surge of fear at the sudden lack of response, the lethargy.

_I'm….dying. This is dying? Is this how it goes?_

Piece by piece, control of his body fell away from him. Distorted, blistering lesions had formed on the flesh of his neck like an acid burn.

And the grinning, mad creature, whose wounds had finally paused in their knitting, towered over him. D'xias was vulnerable now. He was vulnerable and Gauntlet was trapped in his own body unable to act, without even a voice to scream with.

"Last we met, Tin Solider, you stank of her…and for that, your screams are still whispered of amongst the eyeless and dreamless. Regrets that the rot is deprived of the song once more. A few drops of our blood to cleanse the dirt that is in your veins…your nerves have been eaten away by the feathered wormwood…by the woods and walkers and she who devours. It is time to join them," he garbled out in nonsensical snarls, sounding less and less like a poor imitation of man. Gauntlet could not even widen his eyes to the spiked tail, the instrument of his victory, rose to mercilessly bludgeon his skull.

It slammed down next to his head instead, cracking the cement further and gashing off a chunk of his left ear.

D'xias was howling, the tentacles he managed to reform flashing out from his back in an aura of writhing snakes that allowed him to reach with his too-long arm back behind him. Unable to move to turn his head or even narrow his eyes, the Titan could only see the faux satyr struggle and howl in impotent rage, still too weak to be a credible threat.

Then the tail flashed back out, but it was thinner, longer and lacking the knobby club his ended in. It did not shoot its spines, like he had, but stabbed D'xias in the chest, before lifting back once more and doing it again…and again…and again. Dozens of dozens of spines tore into his chest, managing to miss his no-longer-exposed heart, but slamming into a madly rolling eye. It popped upon puncture, sending D'xias' to a new octave of braying shrieks as he stumbled back on mismatched, mutilated legs, away from the Gauntlet.

It was a surreal and violent game: Ryce clung to D'xias, clawed fingers hooked into his shoulder blades. Her shoes were gone leaving both feet free to dig equally sharp nails into his lower back, slashing and raking at any flesh they could reach. His poisonous blood hissed and bubbled against her skin…against her lips as they peeled back past her gums to allow her fangs a better grip into his neck.

D'xias bayed and struggled, trying to disengage himself from the raging and animalistic attack his sister had launched. But the hooks and claws and teeth were embedded too deep…the blood he shared with her could only burn so much. With a yowl, he abandoned any attempts to dislodge her and slammed himself backwards into the ground, her body trapped between him and the crushing pavement.

Once…

...twice…

…thrice…

…well…we all known what four means by now.

Ryce could not hold on, the air rushing from her lungs, barely recovered from her episode. Drowning in his blood, chest compressed, she released her hold on his neck and tried desperately to suck what air she could back into her inflamed airways. He seized the opportunity, quite literally, with a vise-grip on her tail. The cracked cement beneath her ripped away what exposed skin it could as he dragged her up by the spiked appendage.

His other, still-recovering, hand gripped her tail as well, a few inches down from the other hand, and immediately bent the limb in half against itself, the bone snapping clear through without warning. He did it again for good measure further up the limb, deaf to the scream that bubbled out of her at it. He released her unceremoniously, allowing her head to slam into the pavement, further disorienting her.

He wasn't done, catching her tail once more. The other, now almost completely healed, hand grabbed the spines in a handful.

"You will not be doing that again, you bitch,"

And then he ripped them off completely. Ryce was too overwhelmed with the barrage of overwhelming pains to react further.

Her spines were cast down into the dirt. With her head ringing and her eyes tearing, the crunch of the ground under his hooves – hooves, hooves, had the second one regenerated already? How? – was muffled to her. The world swam in a blur as she struggled up to her knees…but she did feel the rush of displaced air.

In the barely there light those black clouds allowed, a much darker shadow fell on her from above, and with it came focus. Looking up, she saw her brother's form in flight – he was healing so _fast _now – hovering above her, one of those long fingered hands wrapped about Gauntlet's neck. He dangled him above her, a smile forming where a smile should be, which somehow made it seem more horribly alien.

"…In your youth, deep water was populated by slimy, savage things that rose from below and shredded his flesh, by demons that cackled and moaned. Do you remember?"

The rush of the bay came to her, and filled her with dread. She had been luring him back to the gas stations – she never considered that he was luring her somewhere as well. The sound pushed her back to her feet and dulled the roar of pain of her healing tail. She didn't need to look: She knew what the state of the normally calm, flat waters would be. Churning and roiling, the surf crashed over itself in violent waves as if the bay were sensing the black void bearing down upon the world that housed it.

"N-no," Ryce whispered, "No!"

She didn't wait, rushing forward up at him, wings blooming in mid-leap.

D'xias was ready for her. His free hand thrust forward and caught her face as he brought up both of his legs in front of him. With a double kick, he broke her lower set of wings, and sent her plummeting back to the earth.

"Oh sister…How long have you known me?" he hissed, almost fondly, waiting for her to regain her senses. She had to watch this. She had to see. The second her eyes found him, his smile grew. His hands seized on to Robert's shoulder and thigh, holding him parallel to the ground. There hero's eyes were still open, they were staring at him hatefully. He was still awake.

Good.

"The shining knight."

He lifted the blond man up into the air…

"The hero's welcome."

…And brought him down over his knee, the crack of his spine ringing out over the waves…over the hateful, frightened shriek his sibling.

He wasn't done.

"And his reward."

Without care, Gauntlet's body was hurled into the bay.

Ryce watched as her friend tumbled through the air, back broken, trapped in a body that was riddled with pain and yet utterly numb to the commands he gave it. The salt water churned and reached up towards him, as if hungry for the form flying through the air above it.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Robert," D'xias smiled.

And they took him.

Ryce didn't think. She was running.

Her bare soles flew down the slope of gravel, the wet sand sucking at her feet up to the ankle…shells…foam…her body arced in a clumsy imitation of something caught between a dive and a tackle.

The water hit her like a slap and with it came a paralyzing (_do you like the fishies Ali_?) fear. Panic flared up in her mind, and the wild water claimed her, both pushing her back and dragging her (_can't breathe can't breathe can't please-)_ away from the dry sands. (-_NONOIdon'twanttod-)_

Her feet found the bottom and pushed her forward into the murky greens. Her cracked goggles leaked stinging salt into her eyes, with her tail trashing behind her before fading uselessly. _Gotta get to him_, her mind insisted as she tried to fight the roaring currents, clawing at it to pull herself forward. Another wave thrust her back, turning her head over heels and smashing her against bottom. She refused it once more, desperate to conquer the riptide and over ten years of fear and inability.

But desire could only pull you so far.

A moment of bravery could not overcome the simple facts.

Ryce could not swim.

And it took mastery of the skill to even brave raging waters.

This was not a bedtime story. She was drowning. Not realizing it in her stubbornness only quickened the process, and she tried to push forward out towards the depths.

But, she was being pulled back, tendrils roped around her arms and legs, towing her up out of the water and unto the shore. She thrashed: She could still save him. He could still be okay! Her lungs sang with relief, and her mind with grief, when she broke into the surface with it a life-saving gasp. But it was with a snarl that she greeted her Savior – her fury overtaking her momentarily from the knowledge.

"Beast Boy! Starfire! GO!" he yelled out over her snarls, "Ryce stop it! It's us."

"_He's dyin'!_" she screamed uselessly at the white-clad Titan. Beasboy and Starfire dove into the surf overhead while Savior checked her for life-threatening injuries.

"We know," Savior assured her, retreating the Shimmer from her ears and lungs in a way that left Ryce feeling more conscious, if not freshened. "We got here as it happened. The others are taking care of your brother. Breathe. Your part's done."

Ryce stared at him, shivering and struggling to comprehend his words. She was fighting the urge to dive back into the water. But the rush of warmth that flooded her when a hand fell on her shoulder dissuaded that urge.

She turned. Metatron smiled at her.

Looking back at him for several seconds, Ryce swallowed thickly and relaxed into him, nodding slowly. She was so tired…

Metatron wrapped his arms around her wet, trembling form. Her disorientation was fading.

"You did good," he whispered into her hair.

You did good. His words made something in her stomach twist in turn with the sounds of the surf. Good? She…had failed him. Them. A sting built in her eyes that had nothing to do with the salt that had leaked into them. She had tried so hard…but still she had fa-

Someone…was clapping…

…_**laughing…**_

"Stronger."

Ryce turned towards her brother, not the only one.

The abomination fought against the Titans. Or, rather, he barely fended them off. The battle was very one-sided now, with so many angry enemies trying to fell D'xias.

He would not last long.

Yet he was talking.

…To her, she was sure.

"When you were that disgusting, fat beast that did nothing but bawl – how I wanted to crush your tiny skull then…I should have," D'xias was reminiscing, his tentacles ripping loose stone into the air and throwing it on the path of Cyborg's cannot. It didn't stop the rocks that suddenly engulfed in black to ricochet back into his body and pummel him. "Because lo and behold, maggot…_Ali_…here you are," his bludgeon-tail slamming into a leaping Scalpel, keeping the alien at bay, and twirled around to shield himself from the barrage of bullets that followed. He didn't snarl, his tentacles seizing on Morgue and dragging her, only to be stopped by Robin's staff slamming on his back. "And you're not a bawling, pointless parasite, are you? This little trap of yours…" he laughed, tossing Robin away, only to be tackled by Cyborg. "…You have grown stronger…finally tried to move from the filth," he almost sounded proud, "fighting against your nature, against a stain that cannot be removed…"

Ryce tensed in Metatron's arms. Something was wrong. The drones had fallen. He was vulnerable and they had an hour to spare. Through her hate, confusion and unknown dread was beginning to build at her brother's arrogance. _Why am I afraid?_ she asked herself quietly.

They were winning, his babbling had ruined his shoddy defenses, and even as he managed to force Cyborg back, Scalpel and Raven pummeled him, brought him to his knees and restrained him in time to receive a full blast from Cyborg's canon.

The Titans surrounded her downed brother, making it obvious how outclassed he was now that all his defenses were gone. Savior had left to join them.

But it was wrong. It was subtle. As Terra and Raven's power trapped him, left him helpless and the rest charged their – final – attack, it was barely detectable all along his skin.

And upon her notice, the subtlety ran out: His skin no longer shifted slowly, but bubbled and boiled like a pot of water, and she could see his flesh beginning to adhere and harden against taut sinew and muscle. His skin was fitting to his body.

He looked at her. Directly at her. Ignoring the threat of the Titans, of their danger.

"But like always…you fall behind in your strives to be more," he whispered. "I was doing it long before you."

"...n...nnn...no..." she whispered at that smile...at the feeling of gooseflesh running up and down her body with the charge pulsing in the air.

"I, too, grew stronger."

The Titans attacked, either ignoring his words, or because of their significance.

"...Time's up."

* * *

_But if you could just **write me out  
**To **neverless wonder... happy** will I become_  
_Be true that this is no option,_  
_So with sin I **condemn** you_  
_Demon play, demon out!_


	18. Chapter 18

_(Author Note: is being a right ball of FAIL. Apologies for the multiple uploads)  
_

_Like **walking into a dream**, so unlike what you've seen  
so unsure but it seems, 'cause **we've been waiting for you**  
**Fallen** into this place, just giving you a small **taste**  
of your afterlife here so stay…_

_**You'll be back here soon anyway~Avenged Sevenfold**_

* * *

_It was a hot night. A sticky one in fact, it being the height of summer, after all. The girl in the leather- like jacket made for an odd sight on the late night streets. Late night…early morning. She did not really care for the difference as the glow of a flickering street lamp glinted off her glasses. Her footsteps echoed in the emptiness as she stood before an all-too- familiar alley way. A bitter sort of grin bloomed on her face. _

Poor Carlos, I should prob'ly check on him_, she thought with a grim satisfaction, making her way into shadows._

_The darkness had changed. It had seemed to suddenly breathe around her, like a living thing. When Ryce turned, she craned her neck up, curious to the fact she was no longer alone. Where there was one …now two._

_Ryce stared into the eyes of the boogeyman whose hand was coated in the life's blood of a genocide._

_The Lord of the Night looked down at her in stillness._

_Ryce's response was…underwhelming._

"…_I thought you'd be taller."_

* * *

They flew at him, all leaping in a surreal moment of synchronicity. She watched it all with the uncomprehending stare of a child, feeling tiny in Adam's arms. Slow motion descended unto her world, rendering it all in painful detail. Ryce could hear her brother's vicious laughter ripping out of him as he stood arms open, the baggy and sagging skin now form-fitted to definition against his strangely muscled body.

In a swift movement that seemed to take years, D'xias' tendrils plowed into the ground beneath his hooves…only for hundreds to burst up from it all around the titans, delaying their strike – most of her friends were plucked into the air and unceremoniously slammed down to the ruined pavement. The others suddenly found themselves on the losing side of the fight, as they desperately tried to keep the suddenly steel-hard tentacles at bay, no attack even slowing them down.

Ryce was in a horrified haze when Metatron's hold tightened, and was unprepared when he jumped back, just as their own hunters burst from the streets below. The tentacles doubled-back with unerring aim, but the demon was already fleeing, his charge securely in his arms.

The tentacles – they were never ending, all consuming – cracked the streets, burst like roots from all directions, snaking on their trail.

It was _his _city now, and Ryce hated her mind for thinking such a thing, hated her eyes for how they tore up at the idea, hated the tentacle diving towards them for how it made it all the more true.

Then she heard the whistle, like many times before – of hot compressed air being released – and hid against Adam, on reflex.

**BOOM.**

Her scream was lost in the explosion; her orientation, that was lost with the feel of ground under their feet. She was not burnt, Adam had ensured that; she wanted to cry out, to warn – Superheating the air into a violent fireball would barely delay the attack. D'xias was too powerful now to be harmed by such remote means.

But as Adam landed rightly and kept running, Ryce knew that had been the point: To ride the shockwave and out some distance between hunter and prey. Distance those monstrous tendrils were already eating up.

Dimly, she could hear her friends crying out in defiance, the distressed cry of a flock of bats, and the guttural snarl of Blacktrinian. She could see as strands of sharpened shimmer arced up and sonic blasts targeting their captor. The composite blade did little more than flatten uselessly against D'xias, like a stupid bird crashing into a pane of glass it couldn't see. The blue and white blasts of Victor's canons struck home and fizzled out without much fanfare.

"The last cries of wriggling worms…"

Her brother's voice clawed at her with its inevitability.

Metatron's follow up of consecutive explosions drowned it out, and kept his laughter at bay.

"Eyes."

A fraction of a second before she covered them, she caught the brilliant light beginning to pour out from him, and in the safety of the darkness she heard her brother's annoyed protests.

And then she was being set down.

"Ryce."

Adam's voice soothed her.

"Our time's never up," he said gently, ignoring how in the background D'xias cursed and raged, "only his. I believe in you."

He kisses her in the nose. "Fly free, munchkin. I'll keep an eye on him."

When Ryce opened her eyes, she was in a dark store. Whatever distraction Adam had used, it allowed her a safe haven to think.

And she was alone.

* * *

The blinding light had not hurt D'xias, merely annoyed him. But his sister had been gone when it cleared up.

"…_**ALARYCE!**_" the monster roared, his appendages writhing and his captives with them, shaking the street. "COME OUT _RIGHT NOW OR I __**WILL SHATTER YOUR LITTLE PE-!**_"

The explosion went off inside his mouth, for a moment making the creature look like a cartoon, his lips stretching disturbingly under a force that he was beyond harm. Eyes flooded to his flesh, finding the source in a nearby roof.

"_**YOU!**_"

Metatron was already jumping and ducking over the tentacles that rushed at him, aware that D'xias' murderous thoughts were only for him now.

From her safety, Ryce peeked out the window. Metatron had given her time, time to _plan something_. Looking at her friends, though, froze her in silent horror. The binding restraints had spiraled around Raven's mouth rendering her useless. To her right, Sophie had been forced back into her human form, any attempt to disintegrate again stopped by having the fleeing bats snatched from flight and slammed roughly back at her body.

"_**NO!**_" D'xias raged as Metatron continued to twist and turn, to use his own appendages as boosts to avoid capture. To cause explosions around him that didn't hurt him, but further humiliated him. Ryce's stomach twisted: Adam couldn't do this forever. "You…I will…_**skin…**_"

Ryce had to move, she couldn't-

And then Met dove into the sewers.

Ryce almost wanted to laugh at the fury that got from D'xias.

"NOT. AGAIN," he snarled, his tentacles piling on the hole and tearing the already ruined street apart. With how he was now, Ryce and Gauntlet's strategy wouldn't work a second time.

The eerie silence that descended on the scene – beyond the muffled protests of her friends, the muffled crashes beneath the streets – was sudden and foreboding. D'xias was calming. Breathing. Thinking.

"…Don't think it escaped my notice that you weren't with him," his voice hissed. Ryce tensed.

Her brother walked leisurely, and with each step more appendages flowed into the city's nooks and crannies, searching for any sign. It was quiet, aside from the slight tremors, the crashes, beneath their feet: Metatron was still fighting, then.

"…No, Alaryce, don't fear my empty threats: I will not kill your little pets," Ryce stifled a gasp; her friends rose, bound and struggling with impotent rage, to the tune of D'xias' sickly-sweet voice. "Simply kill them? By tomorrow, you'd forget, and I'd be left with just regret."

Dread filled her, and her teeth clenched.

"It'd be much sweeter to have them alive, when the White Flames come, when it burns their souls."

_He won't,_ Ryce forced herself to think, trying desperately not to leap out at the words. _He won't if I'm not there. He wants to see my face when it happens. He won't do it if he doesn't get to see. He __**won't**__. He won't. Stay out of sight._

But then what?

Tense silence stretched over several seconds. It was finally broken by an impatient bleat from her brother. And Ryce sighed in relief: She had been right.

"Alaryce…come out," D'xias' voice was no longer sweet, but still sick, and somewhat petulant. "It's time to end it now. Your cute efforts landed you here…come reap your fruits."

Silence greeted the monster.

"…_**COME OUT!**_"

Ryce winced from her hiding place. Her knuckles were white and her mind was swimming – she wanted nothing more than to do as he asked, but she needed a plan, something to not make it all pointless, to _save _her friends –

"I won't kill them, Alaryce…I will break them…"

Oh, _crap._

"You know how good I am at that…now, come out…Now…"

_Crap! _Ryce's thoughts raced frantically now, trying to come up with a course of action. She was the only one left now. The only soldier left standing and unbound – Adam might as well be trapped too for all that he could do right now. She had to do something, but what? _What? _Her ace was still up her sleeve, but she couldn't just rush out and take a gamble, she needed a _plan_, because without one, she'd just get caught and it'd all be over, but she _couldn't_ _stay hidden._

What was better? Their existence or their lives? Pain or oblivion? Crippling or…

"They _are _so frail, you know…so easy…" D'xias hissed, whispers of something guttural and nauseating beneath his words caressing Ryce's skin. She could picture his tentacles tightening that very moment – picture her friend's weakening struggles as they could no longer move.

Years ago, she had sat by and watched her family die. Not again. Never again. As she readied to stand and fight, to gamble it all, she swore: NEVER AGAIN.

"I swear…so little difference between these and the Caitlin bitch," D'xias sighed.

Ryce froze a second before she could have been seen. This time it was in confusion.

"You didn't rise to _her _defense either."

Caitlin…that was…

"Eighteen years…and nothing changes, does it, Alaryce."

Her _mother's _–

"The whore that thought to usurp me," D'xias whispered, his many eyes flowing along his body, looking for their target. "Spreading her legs for the stupid old man, to let him fuck and fuck her until his brains were leaking enough that he decided to make _you_ the heir. The _true _heir. _**My **_equal," his form shuddered with amused rage at the words, seemingly transfixed by the tale, forgetting, even, about the Titans. "I'm sure you remember how well that was taken by our kin. Azrael's nighttime stories for you were always about what our brothers wished to inflict on you for it. Feh," his tone displayed how little he thought of the other angels' desires. "Fantasy and wishes – that's all they had, sniveling wet dreams of unfulfilled waste! But I…I took the stand they didn't. Their fear, their greed – ridiculous, I had none of it!" a hideous upside-down grin spread over his body, grinning. "I had the knowledge of what I knew the world to be, and the drive to force it, if need b–"

The street fell silent when D'xias trailed off. Even the tremors below, grew muffled, and far away.

Ryce did not notice. Her hands shook, and her eyes were far away. She, too, had been entranced by the tale, by where she _knew _it to lead, but that she needed to hear.

But the heavy presence she felt descend into the scene was enough to bring her to her senses, and she was looking out the window, in plain sight, before she could think better of it.

Fortunately, D'xias wasn't looking in her direction: All his eyes were on their father.

Azrael stood several yards away. He hadn't changed at all since the Titans had first seen him in the confines of their kitchen through Ryce's Orb. The same combed-back hair; perfect, stylish suit; neat, polished shoes. Even his manner remained untouched, the cool, indifferent arrogance that washed over them all drowned them when he leaned on his cane.

Understandably, the should-be-young woman in black next to him was easily overlooked due her taller companion's more notable looks. But she was there, one dainty, slim hand on Azrael's shoulder. The posture was relaxed, and the hold was light…and strangely, it gave the feeling of restraint.

…Less understandable was that the Marine, standing stoically behind his father, had also been overlooked. All eyes were inevitably drawn to Azrael.

Because D'xias again grew completely still, in a way only a cornered animal would. Ryce understood what he was feeling, and disappeared into the darkness.

Old eyes bore into monstrous ones in a silence of their own making, pent up to a tense boil ready to burst.

But of all the things he could have done, Azrael only smiled.

"Oh, no, no, don't mind me," he assured his deformed son, waving him off. "Please. Continue."

The effect was instantaneous, with D'xias throwing his head back in a mocking, terrible laughter, his body coming alive with twisted glee.

None of the newcomers reacted, simply waiting for the monster to have his fill. And once he did, he looked back to them – to Azrael – and continued.

"Blood in her food," he confessed. His voice was tinted with almost hysteric giddiness, excited to share his story. "Little by little, weak and brittle. Every day, she fell to gray. Kill the maggot before it came out, shove it down the whore's snout," the manbeast paused here, and his demeanor changed with a disgusted shudder. "…but the bitch refused to succumb. And we know what happened then, don't we?" His eyes spun wild and angry. "Screaming already, the twisted, half-broken worm crawled from her entrails, alive. Despite my tender months of care, I only half-made it with the pup," he again paused, but this time, he continued with a note of pleasure, "but _I killed the bitch_."

_**ZHIZZZZZZZZZ…!**_

There was a crunch of gravel and stone. The should-be woman stood alone, cradling her smoking hand in surprise and pain.

Even with everyone's eyes directly on him, none saw the archangel move. Like a frame missing from a film reel, one moment he was next to her, at least half the length of a football field away. The next, he stood inches from D'xias, who involuntarily took a step back, with the same expression and calm he had displayed since his arrival.

And yet…

It traveled through the Titans in a current, a moment of group mentality, some innate instinct or psychic hiccup of aversion towards the taste of rotten grapes, turning them into a hive. Into a fact to adhere to: Don't look in his eyes.

An instinct D'xias didn't share, as his hideous 'smile' rose to meet his father, and his own eyes lit up with happiness.

"_I poisoned your whore, daddy."_

Dark lights gleamed under Azrael's stare, and the heavy, suffocating presence from before increased tenfold, decisively ending the question of power between the two, and gathered close into a city that had already seen its disasters.

D'xias met his father's stare. "…heh."

"FUCK!"

And then Ryce fell into the streets, closely followed by growing clusters of tentacles.

She made a mad dash for her brother, fumbling with her jacket pocket, only to be tripped by one of her pursuers as she reached him. She let out a curse and tried to stand, but the cluster had caught up and slammed into her, pinning her down unceremoniously.

"NO!" Ryce cried over D'xias' chuckles, struggling pointlessly against her bindings. She had hoped – how she had _hoped _ – that with his attention on their father, D'xias wouldn't notice her sneaking closer, but he had, and now she was caught and she couldn't move, her fingers could _not reach the pocket and she had noth – _"_NO! LET GO!_"

D'xias tilted his head mockingly, his body all but exploding into a flurry of vicious ragged teeth grins. Tender, haunting, hateful, his tone dripped with honeyed venom as he asked, "You've always known she was to blame for the woman's death, haven't you? Now, here's your proof. This is truly a bonding moment, eh?"

Azrael said nothing, staring down at his fraught daughter. Whatever his intentions had been earlier, they were gone now. That moment had passed.

Instead, he sighed in disappointment, walking away from the scene.

"Don't be late for dinner," he called back dismissively, and soon, he and his companion were gone.

D'xias watched his father disappear before turning back to Ryce. "Well."

Ryce responded with a string of lyrical insults that seemed to earn an honest laugh from her brother.

"Dinner, he says," the creature whispered, a hand reaching out to squeeze Ryce's face. Her frustrated tears went unnoticed. "How simple, Alaryce, do you think it'd be to ensure there are no more dinners in your future? Would just a little more pressure do?" Ryce clenched her teeth under D'xias growing grip. "More…? And more…"

Heavy steps. "Her date is not for you to decide."

The Marine had stayed.

"Xavius, I'm shocked!" D'xias purred, letting go of Ryce. "Interfering?"

Xavius stood over Ryce, watching her with his remote, detached stare. He had stayed, Ryce knew, to watch over her. To protect her. His duty, his charge which he may legitimately care for more than he let on.

But that was all he would do.

"Her life belongs to the Council."

Another being with the power to end this madness, choosing to simply observe.

It was enough to almost send her into another bout of madness…were it not for how D'xias straightened at that second. "Ah…there you are."

_**CRASH!**_

She tried to look over her shoulder, and saw glimpses of black and gold. Followed by a mass of purple-gray.

Dread filled her.

Metatron had burst from the beneath the streets, going as far as 20 feet into the air, before the tentacles swallowed him. And all at once, they sank back into the wastes of Jump. Slowly, the appendages retracted, and while most remained down with the filth, perhaps expecting a need for it a third time, a pair came out of the same hole the demon had first escaped into, carrying their prey.

_No…_ Ryce thought, watching D'xias' triumphant expression as he held her closest friend upside down in front of him.

"Morning Child," D'xias whispered, his smiles spreading all over.

"Little thing," Metatron greeted back pleasantly.

D'xias' eyes narrowed at the moniker, and his tentacles slammed Adam face first into the ground.

There were two yells: One of pain from Metatron, and one of rage and black hate from Ryce, as she renewed her struggles to be free, to _fight_…

"…That sucked," Metatron confided, blood flowing from the corners of his mouth.

D'xias sneered at him. "It's a silly thought that drove you to address me as s-"

"_Are you ok?_" Ryce hissed from beneath her constraints, her latest vouch for freedom as useless as the last.

Adam looked to her. "In pain. Feeling a bit silly I'm upside down. Though not so bad now that I see you're buried under tentacles. Did you do that to make me feel better?"

D'xias couldn't help but be bewildered by the bizarre exchange.

"It's not out of the question," Ryce admitted. Then, she hesitated, nursing her lip. When she spoke next, it was with a soft, smaller voice. It was vulnerable, "…I…I think we're in trouble here, Adam."

"Definitely," Metatron replied, casually regarding the monster. "Hopefully we'll do something about that soon."

"I…hope so too…"

"Charming," D'xias growled.

For his troubles, Metatron was awarded another slam, and Ryce another scream of fury.

"So this is who the stories speak of," D'xias growled as he lifted Metatron once more. "I thought you'd be taller."

"Stories are always exaggerated," Metatron remarked, a wet patch of bloodied hair staining his face.

"Disappointing," D'xias said with a sneer, touching the demon's face. Soon tentacles wrapped around his mouth, silencing him along with the other Titans. "But…still with its uses. I remember the old promise."

Ryce growled, trying to move.

"…Do you know what it feels like to have the White Fire swallow you?" D'xias asked Ryce. Her movements stilled, but she would not look away from him. "Such a long time since you had grown attached to anyone," he purred. "I feared it would never happen again. That I would only be causing you physical pain, that you had somehow learned better than to find commitment…"

"…No…" Ryce whispered quietly. Unaware, her body started trashing anew, wildly, unable to stop, but unable to move – _keep trying, keep trying, JUST A FEW INCHES…_

"But here we are…" he looked to all the Titans. "So many candidates…"

"_STOP IT_," the girl growled with a voice that hardly seemed her own.

"…Such a long time since we last did this little game," D'xias sprung the trap.

And Ryce paused. Her fingers stilled. …_Last did?_

There are moments in time, one after the other, where life changes completely in a drastic significant way. Moments where old men die, children cry, friends stand, and lies shine. Moments where choices are made.

These are the moments that define us.

And we hate them.

With her monstrous brother smiling in fond reminiscence, Ryce's dry lips parted. Her eyes widened like a bug's, filled with a horror she didn't quite comprehend. Her heart pounded on her ear, deafening the world around them.

Because Alaryce Gallagher understood the hatred, and knew what lied beneath it…perhaps even before it was voiced.

"It was the tin soldier, to whom we did this last."

Her Robbie hadn't died after all.

The Titans could not word the loss and horror that descended on Ryce. They could not voice how young and altogether alone she looked sitting before that hungry smile. The one of two whom would have understood the outside thing's words had drowned in the raging waters. The other, perhaps without choice, remained silent. His calm, unblinking stare was for Ryce, ignoring D'xias entirely.

"Did you know? I've been saving this revelation for just a special occasion," D'xias' too-large hand reached down to grasp the silver chain that hung around Ryce's neck. It stuck out of her unnecessary bindings, to be palmed with an almost tenderness. "Oh yes. But like usual…you failed to deliver an occasion in which it could be perfect," the words, Ryce didn't even seem to be hearing them. But her brother plowed on: He knew better. "But, I have run out of time. After your actions today, the council will have your head," he trailed off with a happy chuckle, "or, I suppose, perhaps our father will kill me once we're done here. Let's be fair, he probably will.

"I didn't want you or I to die… without knowing that final secret," the monster whispered, unconcerned by the idea of being killed. "You needed to know, than when that blade falls upon your head and you stand before our dear empty judge…he won't be there with you. Just like everyone here," his tentacle gently lifted her head to look at him. "…Alaryce? Am I not kind and thoughtful?"

He tore the jewelry from her with a quick snap, his torso awash with grins. The effect was instant. All at once, the tension left her body, the strains against his tentacles relaxed. She crumpled to the ground, a wet paper doll collapsing under its own weight, her fight was gone…her desires lost. The Titans didn't need to understand the words to see that their trembling, crying friend would not be getting up again.

"In fairness, he would have expired if he could," D'xias remarked casually, standing. "He truly desired it, after all. My, how he was begging for death…up until the point he finally faded. Such a racket."

Turning from, he paused at the sight of the figure towering over him. The Marine's stony expression was more remote than it had ever been; his jaw was squared and tight, and a vein in his neck bulging dangerous. His eyes glittered with a quiet fury that would have had many cowering in fear.

D'xias only scoffed, "How long did you think you could protect her, brother?"

The mottled monster pushed past him without interest in his reply. The dismissal was clear.

Xavius' knuckles popped, but he did not move. He couldn't. For all that Alaryce resented him for it, he couldn't. His duties would be carried – when the Fires came, the task was over. He would carry the broken girl home.

To her fate.

And with the captured, helpless Titans forced to gather around the triumphant monster, it didn't seem like the wait would be a long one. Their power bound by the tentacles, their strength sapped, their exhaustion at its peak…they couldn't fight.

"Pay attention now," the man-thing whispered. He looked almost content, at peace as he took a deep breath. Something primal was triggered in his captives' minds when doing so resulted in his skin giving off a dull glow. Without thinking about it, they all struggled once more, to no avail: The monster's iron grip was undeniable. "No more writhing…no more flesh…no more thought."

Raven roared furiously beneath her binding gag. She desperately called for her power, for her birthright, her blood and soul to rush out and strike down this thing before he closed the curtain. But it wouldn't come, she called and it wouldn't _come._

Her voice was silenced but she was not limited to it. And nothing worked.

When the eye appeared on D'xias' side, with his hideous body suddenly giving way to slow cracks all over it, she knew it was for her. He was taking the time to mock her attempts.

"No more magic."

The spider-web cracks were spreading, making the half-angel's body look almost like a cracked marble statue. Raven wanted to scream in despair at what she felt bursting to get out.

"…No more life," D'xias whispered with loving caress. And as he threw his head back, there was true happiness, a legitimate sense of wonder, in his expression. "Just one…final…show."

An odd white light shone beneath the cracks now, beneath _him_, seeping slowly out into the world. A primordial force of destruction, of the End, spilling before its time into their home – a home that could somehow sense it, and cry out against it. A leak in the fabric of life in the form of snaking wisps of ivory.

Like White Fire.

"And it will be…" D'xias finished, rising cracked arms towards the raging skies, "…Spectacular."

The world saw the cracks connect on the monster's body, it saw the boiling powers bursting to consume it all, and shuddered.

Until D'xias' eyes snapped open.

A second later, the sewers exploded.

"…What?"

The explosion hadn't been some sort of attack: It wasn't even an explosion. It was the result of all of D'xias' tentacles bursting from the concrete, trampling over each other to escape the confides of the sewers, pushing themselves up in a panicked frenzy that had the entire city shaking. Every tentacle he possessed was flailing uncontrollably, even the ones pinning Ryce down abandoned the task in favor of writhing towards the sky, as if unable to get away enough.

All D'xias could do was look down, perhaps seeing something no one else could. The cracks were gone, having receded instantly when he had lost his focus. But he more than made up for their absence in eyes, impossibly wide, disturbed, and searching.

Slowly, he looked towards Metatron. There was no fear in his eyes, nor was there pain. The closest the Titans could come to identifying D'xias' feelings was…bafflement.

"…What were you doing down there."

The demon was already looking at him. He hadn't reacted to the commotion, unsurprised.

Through the chaos and the noise, the Titans impossibly thought they heard something else beneath.

A woman's laughter.

"…_**WHAT DID YOU DO DOWN THERE?**_"

The tentacle keeping Metatron's mouth shut was ripped out of the way manually – like the rest, it was refusing to listen.

The Morning Child considered the being before him, and shrugged. "Remember this moment, little thing."

And in the roar of a world tearing itself apart, Ryce's hand reached her pocket.

* * *

"…_I thought you'd be taller."_

"_**With your limited perception, that's a fair cop."**_

"Did you jus' REALLY make a height joke? Jesus, I thought you were supposed to be **clever**. Well...as much as I love jus' standin' around in the street at one in the mornin' with the genocidal and delusional...s'pose I should jus' cut right to it. If Doxy wins you're floatin' along shit creek without a paddle right b'side the rest of us," Ryce sighed, looking resigned and somehow amused by the concept, "I imagine this s'not an option you are open to embracin'."

"_**Not especially, no. He will not succeed****,****"** The Lord said with quiet finality._

_Ryce paused, raising an eyebrow at that, adjusting her new jacket as if chilled despite the humid summer night, "You plan on sharin' why that is, or did you jus' come out here for the scenery?" she gestured to the littered and dank alley, complete with shattered beer bottles and the occasional used prophylactic. "I ask cause you DID show up...which I doubt you would do 'less you had reason to."_

The Lord answered calmly,** "The Titans are admirable in their ability to defy the inevitable. I desire it. Between the two of us, your erstwhile relative has no chance. They want to save the world. So do I. He might be coming on the heels of a hundred broken worlds, but on this he'll find his reach exceeds his grasp."**

"_...you're underestimatin' him. Don't do that," Ryce frowned deeply, "I know far better men than you that did that and paid VERY dearly."_

"_**If they failed, they were not better men. I do not fail."**_

"'_Cept when it comes to takin' over the world...you fail at that a lot," she smirked, "Like...embarassin'ly a lot."_

_Her goading and taunting tone seemed to fall on deaf ears, **"By one viewpoint. Let them win a hundred victories, a thousand. I just have to win once. To fail at individual acts is less when compared to staking a permanent claim on failure."**_

_Ryce's face hardened and her voice became icy, "D'xias jus' has to win once too. And **you** jus' have to fail once. Given your track record of failure?" her eyes narrowed angrily, "I repeat… Do NOT underestimate what s'happenin' to this world."_

"_**I do not. Because I know that he will underestimate the children. That will stack the odds in their favor. Mine will do so even more."**_

_He summoned his gift with the same flare and flourish Ryce had come to expect of him: The dark crackles and hisses, bells and whistles, and a cold clammy shudder that would set a man's skin to crawl._

_Ryce yawned._

"_**Artaxerxes. One of the great lines of Persian kings, who once ruled an empire that covered most of the known world. An empire is hard to break...but not impossible. All you need to do...is find the weaknesses...or craft them. In the face of this, your brother's shields will be little more than tissue."**_

"_...Break your enemy by fundin' his enemy," Ryce noted before halting what she knew to be coming, "Don't look surprised that I know what you're talkin' bout. S'much as it s'loved to portray me... m'not stupid. When you grow up hidin' under flood boards to escape a beatin,' you end up readin' a lot," she observed the 'gift' and removed a strip of plain, white cloth from her pocket, "This s'a good strategy for people who don't feel like dirtyin' their own hands, by the by."_

"_**This is war, little girl. Honor and fairness is for the John Waynes of the world. You win. No matter the needs, no matter the deeds. You **_**heroes****,**_**" **__he almost spat the word out__**, "never seem to grasp that fact."**_

_Ryce paused and raised an eyebrow before she actually began to chuckle softly, strolling forward closer to hold out the cloth expectantly, "What gave you the impression that m'a **hero**, Ricky? Who's talkin' 'bout bein' fair?" she shook her head and continued, "M'callin' you lazy."_

_Her eyes darted up to his face, narrowing with a sudden lack of amusement, "And perhaps you haven't picked up on it by the fact that m'here talkin' to and dealin' with YOU of all people, given where **my** loyalties lie...but honor isn't a big priority with me anymore...Honestly? Fuck honor." _

_Maybe she imagined the approval – the interest – his tone seemed to gain when he placed the object into the cover,** "Now you're starting to understand. Maybe one day you'll grasp the difference between sloth and efficiency."**_

_Ryce stared back coolly and said, without pause, "And maybe one day you'll learn the difference between accomplishments and satisfaction."_

_The change was there, barely seen in all the shadows. As his eyes narrowed, Ryce's smirk grew. His tone shifted, like a man trying to convince himself at least as much as the one he addressed, "**There is LITTLE difference**."_

_The angel laughed. She didn't break eye contact while wrapping the fabric around the weight in her hand, twining it shut, careful not to touch it directly. Her eye lit with amusement as she tilted her head with an intrigued look, like a bright child who's discovered a new, fun puzzle, "Can you TELL the difference? Do you even want to?"_

_There was nothing subtle about the change this time. Nothing slight in the sudden, growling edge in his words, "**Pick your next words carefully or I'll rip out your tongue.**"_

_In turn, Ryce's laughter was more subdued, before she turned her back on the shadows that made the Lord. Her boots left loud, echoing clicks in her wake, "G'night Ricky."_

"…_**Enjoy it while you can, halfing." **_

_There was no missing the threat there – but Ryce did not break stride, or miss a step. In fact, her smile trembled with a barely suppressed urge to giggle. Another living heave through the dark left the alley way empty save its forgotten trash, and she walked back into the jaundiced streetlamp light. The object in her jacket pocket felt unnaturally heavy for something of its size. It made **her** feel unnaturally heavy._

_Quietly, Ryce began to hum into the dark, "So g'bye yellow brick road…Where the dogs of society howl. You can't plant me in your penthouse…m'goin' back to my plough."_

_Her smile did not falter, alone in the dark with only the echo of her steps, that oh-so-heavy weight in her pocket, and the bitter sting in her eyes, "Back to the howlin' old owl in the woods, huntin' the horny back toad. Oh, I've finally decided my future lies…_

"…_beyond the yellow brick road."_

* * *

"My munchkin," Metatron continued simply, the woman's laughter finally drowned out, "is going to kill thee."

The cloth that housed the Lord's gift fell to the ground, empty.

D'xias snarled in blind fury, a clawed arm lashing out to rip into Adam.

The purple-gray monstrosity seized up with a shrill bleat of agony when that arm became a stump. The severed limb landed meatily by his hooves.

"There we go," Metatron noted.

D'xias ignored him, too busy muttering furiously in that strange lyrical language of Ryce's, turning around and backtracking. The Titans could all easily figure out that he was saying some variation of the word 'impossible'.

His fury and disbelief only mounted at the sight of his attacker.

Ryce was done, should have been broken in every way, unable to stand…yet she was. With her hair falling over one eye and caked with blood, her clothes in tatters and her body riddled with bruises and damage most soldiers never had to ensure, she stood. And her hard, cold stare carried enough fury to match – to _overwhelm _– her brother's.

But D'xias didn't see that. Foolishly, he ignored it in favor of the sword.

It looked far too big for her. In fact, it dragged on the ground, making one wonder how she had swung it, or if she had at all. It was completely black, denying any form of light or gleam off it in a way that didn't seem natural – like staring at something that was a completely different dimension than the eye could perceive, and getting a migraine from trying.

The thin blade had three rings pierced into it, jingling with the wind and somehow heard clearly, and unnervingly. The blade itself was a hollowed-out, thick lightning bolt, deadly sharp and buzzing with an odd power that sent sparks of black electricity along the length of the entire sword. The handle, gripped tightly in her small hand, was unremarkable, except for when the black electricity would reach it: It would touch Ryce's skin and painfully ingrain itself into her hand, like a tattoo, forming a black, veiny pattern all the way to her wrist. Ryce did not wince. She did not even seem aware.

"ALARYCE? _YOU? YOU _TOOK MY ARM?" D'xias demanded angrily, holding on to his new stub, trying to keep his disgusting ichor from leaking out. "_YOU __**FUCKING BITCH, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?**_"

"I hear she had an unstable upbringing," Metatron explained.

From earlier, his tentacles still were only barely following his commands, so when the monster tried to slam him hard enough to cave in his skull, it didn't end how he wanted.

It didn't help that the sword swung and severed the limbs off cleanly, freeing the demon.

"_**ARGHHHH!**_" D'xias cried in rage and – Ryce smiled – pain. "What is that _BLADE?_ How can it cut through my shields?"

Ryce deftly twirled the sword in her hand. The veins, they now reached up to her elbow, and with them her movements became more fluid, the sword became lighter.

"_Artaxerxes_," she replied in a soft, controlled tone. "Shieldbreaker."

She stabbed.

D'xias saw it coming this time, and tried to evade….but shades rose to meet him, and forced him into place. He screamed again when the sword dug into his side, a jolt of terrible darkness raking at his body. The shades didn't vanish, with her strike like they should. They pinned him down before his sister.

His next scream, as he took in his sudden situation, was one of incredulity.

"…Ryce," Metatron's voice came quieter than usual. The demon stood and moved towards her.

The girl took a step forward, away from him and closer to D'xias.

"…Did you really believe this would be allowed?" Ryce said in a vague, weird whisper. "Are you really so _**stupid**_ to put yourself up against _**this world**_?"

Her brother snarled at her, eyes and mouths breaking out to snap at her form. D'xias struggled against the all-too-strong bindings, finding the roles reversed, and not liking it. His appendages, still spooked, would not heed his calls for defense.

He was trapped. His dark, orange eyes blinked owlishly at Ryce once that became apparent.

"…Heh. Aft'r all the years of toil and plannin' that were wrought here. Strategy and devices that you could not even begin to hope to wrap your infantile mind and stupidity around. People that have bled for this world – _**his world**__._ M'not the only one who wants you to get the fuck out of it."

D'xias…chuckled. "…oooh…hoho…I see…"

Ryce tilted her head, and her hair fell away from her blind eye, an eye that was as black as if bled with the night's ink. No light glinted off of that liquid shadow: There was no room for it. Light was swallowed here.

"My fascination with this world began with its protectors…but that s'not where it ended."

This time, her brother laughed out loud. "Oh, _bravo_, Alaryce. Letting someone else lend you their power, beat me by proxy, is it? Such an accomplishment."

Ryce's face twitched with a queer half-grin, an unspoken joke between herself and the black of her eye, "A satisfaction."

"Well?" D'xias whispered, his voice dripping with the usual disdain and disinterest. "You got me, you worthless bitch. Get _on _with it. Come now…like your bloated corpse of a friend," once again, a mouth spread over his heart, revealing it – what was inevitable wounded, was optional healthy, it seemed. "_Do it._"

Still, Ryce didn't move.

"Oh, let me guess," D'xias grins. "You wish to make me suffer," he chuckled. "It amounts to nothing, maggot. _Nothing_. In the end, there's no justice…There're no Depths for me. Just… oblivion."

The man-thing relaxed, enjoying the quiet. "It was always going to end this way. Once I had my fill…I was always going to fade. By _**you**_," here, he paused, a quiet rage overtaking him momentarily, before vanishing under indifference, "that I didn't expect…but in the end it's all the same. Always the same."

At this, finally, Ryce smiled. TRULY smiled. It was enough to give D'xias pause.

"Always," she agreed. "…You jus' won't fade," her brother snorted, but she continued. "You never understood. You weren't entirely soulless," she chuckled at the ridiculousness of such a statement, "that's why He gave you a chance. So no, you won't fade. But the Depths are not for you."

"…what the fuck are you talking about?" the creature snarled, tired of this conversation.

"From that whence you came, you return again," Ryce replied simply.

D'xias stared in blank incredulity.

"From that whence you came," Ryce repeated slowly, careful to draw out every word, "you return again."

Silence.

And then D'xias sat up, a wide-open eye appearing on every surface.

Ryce smiled in satisfaction, leaning back. "I didn't want you or I to die…" she purred, "without knowing that final secret."

"…Wait…" her brother whispered, a cold, clammy tone to his voice. Ryce delighted in it.

"These children you held down, at**tacked and viol**_**ated**__** in their home**_**,"** she twirled the sword, aiming directly down at his heart. Her voice twisted and changed as he spoke, becoming deeper, until it couldn't possibly be simply her speaking, "_**They are mine. AND I DON'T SHARE.**__"_

A single flick of her wrist struck the blade home through his chest. The monster's body seized, but for him it was no deterrent.

"Wait! Alaryce, please, I-"

"_**Love your mother, brother,**_" Ryce's disjointed voice sneered, shades roaring down her arm…down the blade…into his chest.

"_**WAIT!**_"

But the shades flared with their malevolent intent. She did not wait.

D'xias' body tore itself apart in a hideous display, his arms, neck and body contorting and snapping, melting and screaming.

His mouth finally tore itself apart with one last scream…only then did Ryce send the flare that reduced his body to black mist.

* * *

White…is never good.

It is ultimate destruction and ultimate absence.

The White Fires that bring the end of all things, nibbling at the corners of existence, their sole existence was undisputable evidence of this fact.

But the white he found himself in was different kind. A worse kind.

D'xias stood, garbling nonsensical words, clawing at nonexistent walls, stomping on a nonphysical ground that did not feel there.

It was white where he was. Not a room, not a place. He could not tell where the walls were, were the floor began.

He could not worry because he was back, he was ho – _NO! NO, HE WASN'T, NEED TO GET AWAY NEED TO ESCAPE!_

Welcome home, D'xias.

_DON'T. REMEMBER, REMEMBER TO ESCAPE._

The escape is through the Door. You need only open it.

_CLAWING AT MY MIND. LEAVE. ME. BLIND._

D'xias…darling child…tasty legs…

_AL-ALARYCE! SHE DID THIS!_

Nah. You wanted to come here. You wanted to return.

_NO! SHE KNEW!_

Of course she did. Alaryce is here.

_The trap of child ended when the goat trampled down the sleeping bundle._

Through the Door…time to go.

_Be strong…Daddy…_

Mommy…

The world is white and colorless.

And so are you, D'xias.

With only the thin black lines keeping you in, and the rest of the White out.

Because the Door is behind you. And it is unlocked.

And with a grin, you walk, you crawl and you cry.

You smile at the sad man, watching you go. His face needs a shave, his plaid shirt stained – so lost in this cave, no friendship regained.

You walk through the door…

It closes forever.

…Welcome home, D'xias…

* * *

The black tendrils holding Raven down remained tense for a second or so even as she saw the mist of his body trickle to the dirt. Moments later, they loosened and then unraveled completely. But Raven did not feel it. Within seconds, the sun began to rip through the swiftly receding black of the sky above. She did not see it. The roaring of the bay behind her lessened, but even that seemed far away as if heard in a dream. All she saw was the girl who had crumpled to one knee from the force of her strike.

Slowly, numbly even, she stood and took a step forward, ignoring her body's cries for rest. Eyes never left Ryce's shuddering form, watching as the girl also pulled herself up, the sword still pulsing blackly in her left hand. Her face was tired and strained; dirty and bruised and peppered in that loathsome black blood.

Metatron joined the girl quickly, grabbing hold of her wrist. He whispered, but Raven didn't follow exactly what. Just about the sword.

"Ryce…what have you done?" she asked.

Starting slightly, the angel looked over towards her, eyes confused and lost, "...I…I…had no choice…I'm sorry…I had no choice. I couldn't let him win Raven! I had no choice!"

"It is okay, Ryce…It's alright," Raven told her quietly, hearing the growing hysteria cracking in her voice as she stepped closer to the frightened girl, "Just…put it down. It will be okay…but you have to put that…_thing_…down."

Ryce nodded, eyes looking down to her left hand, and the blade it still loosely gripped. It was over…Raven was right…all she had to do was put the dark sword down. A weak hand lifted from her side, fingers loosening their lax grip, ready to drop the blade without ceremony to the dirt.

…_**Oh…that is amusing...did you really think it would be that easy, Deathling?**_

She paused. A small, sad smile curling up on her lips as she shook her head. In her hand, the hilt of the sword hummed coldly…a hand that gripped tightly to that hilt though she commanded otherwise. Ryce's eyes stung as she looked up at nothing, addressing the amused voice echoing in her mind, "No…no I guess I didn't."

_**PAIN. **_

* * *

She was steps away from her; she could have reached out and grasped her shoulder. Raven heard her whisper something, talking to herself. And then she was no longer whispering, she was screaming. Eyes bulged out of her head as the blade in her hand crackled darkly. Instantly, the veins in the arm and hand holding the sword began to darken into black against her pale skin. The blind eye in her head bled first red and then it too turned back to black. And all the while she screamed and screamed and screamed, in Adam's arms. Behind Raven came cries of surprise at the sudden change.

"Ryce!" she called out, reaching forward to peel the hand clutching the sword back away from the handle.

And then Metatron was crashing several yards away, and the blade was in her shoulder, pinning her numbly into the shard of crumbled wall behind her. Raven let out a grunt of surprise before opening her mouth to fire off a defensive spell.

"**Do. Not. Fight.**" Ryce's voice said quietly, the screaming had cut off with the strike of that blade. Something warm embraced Raven at those words. Something comforting and welcome. Dimly, she was aware of a part of her mind lashing out at this comfort in revulsion, refusing it, spitting and foaming at it in rage. Hazily, she frowned at this part of her. Yes. Do not fight. Ryce was right. She would listen.

"Raven!" There were several people yelling her name. Her head turned to see the faces of her friends and one of her lover, only for them to be obscured in a wall of shrieking and lashing shades, cutting them off from interfering.

Ryce's mouth smiled. Ryce's head tilted. Ryce was gone from her own eyes. Something using her voice commanded in that same authoritative and calm tone, "**Grab. The. Blade.**"

Raven's shrieking and refusing mind grew louder as her hand reached up and gripped the blade firmly, blood trickling down it as her skin split. The subtle loving warmth was gone...but her hand was still gripping that blade, her mouth still refusing to form the words of a spell to knock the smaller girl easily away. And that thing that was wearing Ryce's body pulled her lips back into a maddening grin. Raven knew that black eye in her head, recognized it without questioning.

She also recognized that she was going to die.

* * *

The Lord was surprised as he watched what his influence over the girl wrought. Surprised at the ease at which this take over had occurred. While he had not expected a fight of great difficulty he HAD expected some form of weak struggling on Ryce's behalf.

Perhaps it was this surprise that made accepting her sudden lit twittering through his head.

_Stroke-inducing is kinda a rude thanks for savin' your world dun' y'think?_

_**You wish to spend your last conscious moments babbling? You are not even going to fight? Do you even care that you are killing your friend?**_ he asked her without words. And she was smiling at that, laughing. He could feel her amusement curling out of her and through him.

_Spoilers, love, _she chuckled back, _I jus' thought not sayin' anythin' would be a touch rude while m'here. _

_**Odd time to start placing effort into your manners. Seems a pointless regret to cling to.**_

_Only thing I regret is not finishin' our game…and dyin' my hair pink…what the hell was I thinkin'. Pink s'a terrible color on me._

It came to him in a quiet sort of afterthought as he watched the black shades creeping their way down the sword he had placed into the death angel's hands. Easy to miss in the excitement and yammering of pink hair. The shades, which moments before had shattered this host's brother into mist, were now so much blacker and seeking demon flesh. Raven's eyes did not show the fear that D'xias had. It was a puzzling moment…an oddly serene one. Clinging to so many plans laid out…The Lord of the Night admired her. Even willed himself to, perhaps, be so welcoming one day.

"MASTER!" Marissa's voice called out in the quiet…far too urgent…far too…too…too.

…_did you really think it would be that easy, Ricky?_ Ryce asked quietly.

The Lord of the Night looked down to see his hand gripping the hilt jutting out of his abdomen. The pain had yet to reach him, but it was coming. Reflex commanded that the hand release the sword he had for some reason run himself through with. That hand followed his command…and then reached for another blade without his consent. His other hung uselessly at his side, giving no indication it would be lifting to pull out the sword like he willed it to.

Now the pain had hit, far too much to scream, and his mind relished that pain and ached for the desire to feel more of it, willed his own weapons to create it. Another blade and then another. To carve out a symphony of it into his fleshless body until it crescendoed and he parted like smoke to the open room. Arms open to what came after. Something both made of him and alien wondered if it would truly be so bad. No, it made him _**CRAVE**_ it. Why WONDER? Why ask of that which you can experience? How can one be truly _**satisfied **_by a long sought after _**accomplishment **_with just silly questions? Falling to one knee, he looked up into the reflection in one of his crystals, his hand gripping a small sword and aiming it for his own throat.

He was smiling.

Mismatched, blue eyes looked back from his face.

Behind him two figures stood.

Ryce smiled and moved forward to kneel behind him, and he could feel her hand on his shoulder. The pale, dark haired woman mirrored her movement on his other side, her smile making the Horus tattoo upon her eye wrinkle.

"Doors open two ways, Richard. You are goin' to love it where we're going," Ryce chuckled and he could feel her breath on his ear.

Death's breath ruffled his collar.

Yards away, Marissa had been starting towards him, wide eyes staring in horror at the sudden self-mutilation. Pausing mid step, she nearly fell backwards with a jerk in direction. So many shields and spells her master had granted her in protection. Part of her knew she would most likely have been fine staying in place. But deep down where the lizard mind still lurks, fear and flight ate at her. She ran. She ran before he had given any sign of the explosion that was going to commence.

A single ruffle of his collar, from a breath whose owner she couldn't see. As soon as it happened, his body seemed to drop away from around the sword he was impaled on. The blade he had begun to swing fell from a grip that was reduced to a dark swirl of cloud and sand. With a ripping scream the dark shadow flew up into a breath shrieking swirl, rage and black hate and utter terror that lashed out crippling and decimating whatever the wailing shade caught.

That mindless rage sought _**flesh**_.

* * *

The arm clutching the sword buried into Raven's shoulder sagged, the tension and strength leaving it for a moment. Raven's eyes darted up to look into Ryce's face. The black fury and puppet's smile were gone. Even with her eye the color of ink, Raven could see Ryce in that face. She could see the disappointment in it.

"…damn," Ryce managed, before an inarticulate scream tore her throat raw and her arm spasmed. Muscles and tendons strained against her black-streaked flesh as if she had suddenly been tazed. Once more, the black shades began to creep and crawl their way down the blade towards Raven's flesh. This time, Raven saw Ryce struggle vainly to stay in control, to cling to her own self as that blackness tried to drown her out. Still, Raven's limbs and mind would not respond to her commands. Somewhere, her comrades were screaming out to them, unable to push past the wall of death in their weakened state.

"Ngggghh….ahh….ngh," Ryce groaned in pain and hate, as if trying to force something from her mouth, something that just would not come. Her blue eye locked with Raven and showed an annoyed resignation.

"…No."

Then, there was a flash, and the light in her eyes went dead. A burnt, waxy smell hit Raven, a smell that triggered a gagging reflex that she barely kept down as the sword tore from her shoulder with Ryce's jerking motion. The black markings, the very veins in Ryce's arm, seemed to bulge beneath the skin, before bursting and bleeding red and black in a torrent down her ruined limb. A step back…two…and then the teenager fell to reveal a hazy and already fading Sizzle behind her, watching her collapse with uncaring eyes.

"RYCE!" Raven heard someone scream it. She watched Nigel rushing forward…others joining him. But it was hazy, the world was graying out around her, starting at the corners of her vision and threatening to creep over her sight completely before she hit the ground. Warmth flooded her mouth as her teeth came crashing down on her own inner cheek, the pain jolting, snapping its jaws at the encroaching grey and sending it flying back. The world focused. Someone was holding her up. She leaned into those hands, knowing Noel's touch.

"What happened?" Robin was talking to her she realized. Had been talking, for several seconds.

Answering came with an ease that Raven was not expecting, "The sword…it was cursed. She managed to…get control back in the end to stop herself."

"Control back from who?"

"... … …" Raven's silence was answer enough for the lead Titan.

"Let's…take care of the injuries – hers and ours – first. Fix the rest of this mess later," Savior suggested, releasing Raven once he was sure she could stand on her own two feet steadily.

Gruff and quiet, Nigel's voice startled the group out of their discussion. The words even in their softness seeming to cut through the urgency and confusion with all the precision of a surgeon's knife.

"…I…I cannot."

"…Scalpel?" Morgue asked, limping gingerly up beside the doctor. Settling her heavy-set frame beside him she looked up into her lover's face to find a grim, and all too resigned flatness to his eyes, "What do you mean? Cannot?"

His eyes did not leave the small, bleeding form he had pulled half into his lap to tend to. The defeated slump of his shoulders shifted only slightly when he lifted a small pen light up and shone it into her half lidded right eye. The pupil had blown, leaving only the slightest hint of blue to the very edge, and when the light hit its surface, there was not so much as a flinch to the dilated black.

"There is nothing for me to save," he explained hollowly.

"What!" Cyborg's voice snapped roughly into the mix as he quickly joined the doctor and mortician next to Ryce's side. No one needed to ask to know he was scanning her, shaking his head in quiet denial, "No…Nigel, you're making a mistake, man. I have a pulse…She's breathing. She isn't dead. Do something before she bleeds out completely."

"…There is **nothing** to save," Nigel repeated.

"What are you talking about Scalpel!" Terra snapped from above him, her eyes wide and reflecting the same quiet denial as Victor, "I'm standing right here and I can SEE she's breathing! Get up off your grey ass and start doctoring!"

A snarled out curse set the blond back a step away from the blacktrinian whose gaze had narrowed on her. Grievous regret simmered hotly in his strange eyes as he turned back to look at Ryce's broken form. Using the flat side of a single bladed finger, he gently ran it up the sole of one of Ryce's feet, ignoring the confused expression on most of his teammate's faces. They watched as Ryce's toes immediately fanned upwards and out, relaxing once more when the alien's hand fell to his side.

"Her pupils are fixed and unresponsive to light…so are her eyes when I turn her head…her plantar reflex – what I just did – get me Babinski response," Nigel explained quietly.

"In English?" Terra asked a defensive and panicky edge creeping into her voice.

"She's brain dead," the answer came not from Nigel, but from the shaggy, dark haired youth whom Victor wordlessly shifted away to make room for. Metatron settle to the ground beside her and without a word in askance took the shattered body of his blond friend out of Nigel's hold, gathering her even closer into his lap. All the while the blown-out pupil of her eye remained the same. The vain hope that the orb would roll up to stare, even if just vacantly, at Adam's face meant nothing.

"But…her healing," Noel frowned shaking his head, "If you start patching her up her healing will take over the brain injuries. You can still-"

"What do you think it was she had Sizzle fry?" Metatron asked, his voice frightfully calm as his hand gently came up to brush away her bangs, tacky and stuck to her face with blood.

"Ryce's healing is a physiological response," Nigel took over, "Not magical. To stop herself she must have…blown the center of her brain that controls it. The energies in the sword continue to flow through her but without her healing…" the Blacktrinian could only helplessly gesture to her ruined bleeding arm.

"I…I don't understand," Terra's gaze darted around to her teammates, her expression reflecting that it was all to clear that she did, "Why are we even talking about this? You're acting like there are no damn options. We're not NORMAL, we can figure out how to fix her later!"

"She'd spend the rest of her life on a feeding tube, Tara. She'd be a shell to dress and care for," Sophie tried to cut in with a gentle tone that her rival rarely heard. Ironically, no one paid much attention to the demi demon that was cradling the subject of their conversation in his arms as he sealed her wounds with tiny unfelt blasts of heat.

"It doesn't matter," Robin's voice was heavy. There was no mistaking the guilt in it, "I…Ryce has a D.N.R for…situations like this."

The confusion on Tara's and Raven's faces was only matched by the horrified shock from all others. It was utterly surpassed by Noel's pale faced rage, "WHAT!"

"Savoir…"

"You let a seventeen year old sign a D.N.R!"

"Nigel and I were trying to get her to reconsider!" Tim shot back.

"Reconsider!" the anger kicked his voice up into a near roar.

"What is a D.N.R?" Raven tried to cut into the argument. Her answer came from the all too calm and nearly infuriating whisper from Metatron. He appeared to have no other wise cracks or quirky commentary to add.

"Do Not Resuscitate."

Raven's eyes widened at the new bit of knowledge, glancing down at the dying teenager as if seeing a total stranger.

"…she's just a child. She cannot be that fatalistic," Sophie whispered weakly as she pulled the mask from her face.

"…you don't know her very well, do you?" Met asked, his tone without accusation…in fact there was a distinct, wry amusement there.

Noel had carried on, oblivious to the attempts at interruption as he reeled towards Nigel, several strands of shimmer emerging from one of his hands, "If she wants to die, FINE! Let her get a gun tomorrow and blow her own fucking brains out for all I care, but I am not going to just stand here and do nothing because of her asinine self-worth issues!"

Raven's hand over his wrist was a vice grip, oddly strong for her slight frame, "You will DIE, Savoir. We've been over this."

There was a moment where something that might have been a helpless frustration flickered in the white haired man's eyes before he was falling right back into anger. Glaring at Nigel, he returned to his first tactic of accusation "A D.N.R….the hell is wrong with both of you that you let this hap-"

"That's enough!" Robin grappled unto his shoulder and all but spun the other man around. The regret and guilt and horror were still there…but now a steely anger had come over the leader's face as well. Before Noel's open mouth had time to utter another sound he was cut off, "Shut up. Do you think so god damned little of us that we would have allowed this if we had ANY control of it! What do you think my pushing her into seeing Sid was ABOUT! A couple of dark jokes? Did you really think that was IT?"

Cut off as he had been, Savior's heated rage had already begun to temper. A more convincing, on the cusp of imploring, tone had taken over, "Tim, Gauntlet is _**dead.**_ We barely won this. You cannot stand here now, and expect me to accept that we're going to let a seventeen year old bleed to death at our feet because she signed a piece of paper that was nothing more than guarantee to an indirect suicide. I am standing in the middle of a perfect storm of 'What the fuck.' It doesn't make sense. She is a minor. She can't even SIGN that kind of document and make a decision like that without consent from a par-"

And then he knew. The dark look that came over the Tim's face only strengthened it. The crumble of gravel behind them and the being whose suede shoes caused it, confirmed it.

Azrael watched them all – watched his dying daughter – in calm bemusement. The pale teenager behind him had the very least of decency to look morose at what was occurring before her.

"…you signed a…you let your kid…" Cyborg stared at the Archangel as if trying to comprehend the sheer 'what' of the thing before him.

Morgue's calm shattered in the face of the realization, "You ASSHOLE. How could you let her do that? H-how can you just stand there?"

Noel's voice was ice, "He doesn't care, Morgue. To help her now would be to admit that he may have been wrong…that his precious rules are flawed. And that's just not going to happen. Because he's a god…and they're never wrong are they? Mistakes are something lowly mortals make. And he is more than willing to let his weakling daughter slowly bleed out to make that point. He gets to make an example out of D'xias AND Ryce. This is the punishment for those who do not listen to 'Daddy'. Doesn't matter that she fixed this whole damned mess…all that matters is that it's over…and he doesn't have to own up for any of it. Isn't that right?"

Azrael grinned…they hated how much he looked like Ryce when he did that, "You're a clever boy. I see why Ali took such a shine to you."

"…You're next. We'll be coming for you."

A smooth, patronizing laugh and a shake of the archangel's head was the answer to Noel's threat as Azrael turned to leave, a hand waving politely over his shoulder, "And I'll be comin' to collect the body."

"Like hell you will," Cyborg snarled.

Azrael simply kept walking, not even pausing when Noel gave a final thought, "Feh…**fuck **you."

Without giving his teammate's the chance to stop him, Noel plunged a shimmer strand into Ryce's ear.

Pain…just pain.

There was no coherency in him to grasp anything else beyond that one, simple, abstract concept. So many years of throwing himself into harm's way, through windows, crushed, broken, bleeding. Noel "Savior" Collins was a veteran of it all. Yet, nothing prepared him for the all-encompassing crush that constricted him when his mind and nervous system connected into hers. His immediate instinct was to rip away from it, to pull out and flee. Something gripped him though, sucking him further into the abysmal madness that was the shrieking whirl of Ryce's dying mind.

"_You're husband dro-"…"been an accident"…crib death…car wreck…"in her sleep"…"in **his** sleep"…choked…shot…bad neighborho-…accident…misca-…pain…peace…struggle… "I'm sorry for your loss"...thirty-eight feared de-…"I'm so sorry"…_

The world was still coming back from its imminent collapse, still healing the cracks D'xias had been forging across its very reality. It whispered, heaved, screamed, and clawed at him, just as it clawed at her, everyday. Blind…deaf…numb to everything except that maddening void of the _everything _Ryce had spent so many years bearing.

Through the dark though, something else was coming. Something he did not even grasp until it was, finally, almost there. The blindness receding, the sounds dulling and muting, fading. There was still a man screaming. Noel tried to ignore that sound as he peered into the oncoming blur that was solidifying around him. Screaming. That Man would not stop bloody screaming. Noel ignored him as best he could as the world reformed as was reborn around him.

The battlefield was gone. His friends – his family – were not there with him.

He was in a Hall…looking down its long corridor at an oak door.

An Office Door.

Someone was behind him, someone safe and warm, but when Noel turned to see, he found no one, the Warm One always stayed out of sight behind him. That was okay.

He found a bedroom of ornate furniture and riches. A regal display of wealth, cold and beautiful and sterile. No fourth wall was there, allowing him to look in from the space where it should have been. She was too small even then. No more than ten, Ali – "Ryce" was still so many years away – toppled from her bed in a blind panic to the floor on her hands and knees. Pain shot up through his legs on impact as horrific stamping feet thundered through a hall that was not there behind him. Behind a door he could not see.

Beyond little Ali's room was a lake, figures on opposite shores. The two "men" stood upon the docks, grinning down at the bubbles roiling frantically in the water. Chest burning with a desperate need for air that Noel could never seem to catch even as he gasped, gasped as the tiny four-year-old chained to the bottom of that lake wanted to gasped. He could feel her fear and hear her silent begging, just as he could feel the fingers of the ten-year-old in the Beautiful Room as she pried desperately at the edges of her wooden floor, seeking purchase. Her mind humming with frantic whispers as she tore open her fingertips …_They're comin' oh god they're comin' I gotta get awaygetawayge-I can't __breathe__ it hurtsITHURTS-_

Noel shuddered, feeling disorientated as blades of grass seemed to press up into his back and side. Across the lake from where the brothers were being torn apart by their father, he could see Ryce as he knew her, collapsed on the green shore in Metatron's arms. They'd come out of a jump above the waters of some lake long in the future and far away from the waters baby Ali was being pulled from by Xavius.

Long and far away from the Office Door that was down a not-as-long-corridor in the Hall Behind Him.

Noel blinked.

There were no lakes…slats of light thin as paper fell from the wooden planks above him. This place was small. It was dark and it was dusty beneath the floor boards of the Beautiful Room. A small book shelf and a myriad of stolen pillows, pictures, trinkets, and as many books as could be piled. It was safe from the tromping feet seeking to kick and stamp into the twelve year old sitting across from him. They were under a blanket tent to keep the light from filtering out of the floor above. Too skinny…she was sick. He'd have wondered why that was if he could not dully hear her begging her father somewhere far away to let her stop watching. To stop seeing her eyes.

…Patricia… Lessons… Ric-

_Oh GOD, s'__**in **__ADAM._

But it did not matter. Those screams and those eyes could not touch her where she was. No one could. Dark-ringed eyes crinkled with joy as she rested her forehead against the smooth glass of the Orb. Watching its soft glow, smiling as the words fell from it to comfort. She quietly cheered along.

"Titans' GO!"'

Under her bedroom was safe…always safe. Above them Noel could no longer see the Beautiful Room. It was a banquet table in a Dark Walled Room. Creatures snarled and shifted in their chairs, argued, fought, drank, ate. But above all else they subtly glared. Even as they talked with their father at the tables head, they glared. She felt them glare. The twelve-year-old under the blanket, watched…the twelve-year-old above at the table, drank. Glass…after glass….after glass. Her father paid little attention as she refilled her cup with the dark, mulled drink. The fear's edge was dulled with it. Those glares. Straight backed she sat…she drank…she was silent. If she was silent…maybe they would just forget she was there. Maybe they would stop hating her.

And yet…in the corner…sitting far off and untouched by all in the Dark Walled Room, Noel could see a soft glow. He could see the archangel lovingly guide "Princess Ali's" little hands to slide a bow across a violin's strings. Under all the strange, dark sickness that seemed to curl at him, he could see the father Ryce so blindly always thought him to be.

Azrael whispered to the four year old…he whispered to the intoxicated and terrified child at the banquet table.

"I love you, Ali…"

It broke Noel's heart to know she could not tell the difference between these two moments.

How could she have known then? How could she differentiate between the mask and the real? She had yet to meet her "parents." Morgan and Eddie were still at the very least three years away from her. Noel was not though, he watched the man in the shabby suit remove a ski mask, to reveal his face. In his forties and in need of a shave and shower, the air around Noel had the under hint of whisky. It was so as he could get a better look at the teenaged Ali, curled up tightly in the shade of a rock, the desert sun beating down on them…the Irish drunk known as Morgan McBride and on the motley caravan of the Masked idling behind him.

A man –and it was only Ryce's knowledge of his gender that made Noel realize him to be male – removed a biker's helmet and fell beside her. The pretty doctor was swift to offer the winged, tailed girl water as Morgan lifted her gently. Edward Temple…Ryce's Eddie…Morgan's Fox…The three who had lost everything, who at least found each other, meeting for the first time.

("What the hell is she, Morgan?" "How should I know, you nance? Go get, Candide. He's our weirdo.")

They had loved her. They had loved her _**so**_ much. She had loved _them_.

…She missed her "parents."

Noel wished nothing more than to turn away as he watched Eddie embracing her one second…and the next, ripped away and ripped apart right before her eyes. D'xias ripped her world apart before her, and laughed.

She missed them so much…

A glance over his shoulder showed the Office Door had crept closer down the Hall Behind Him. He did not worry, the Warm One wasn't worried.

She was dancing, her movements and those of her partner out of sync with the reeling of a violin drifting around them, not quite jarred by the Screaming Man beneath it. Noel had almost tuned him out by now. A crackling bonfire threw shadows over them both as they pressed into the other almost desperately, and the man was wearing Robert Candide's face. The smile was not able to hide that everything was broken beneath it, everything dead and gone only to be gained back by his young lover curled up in his arms. What they were to one another flickered in the corner of his eyes like an intimate whisper, winking out should he dare to look directly at it.

Following their spinning through the not-there walls of the Hall Behind Him, Noel watched another, slightly younger, Ryce. She passed through the walls before that closer-still Office Door, walking dutifully beside her father, never once complaining of the limp that tried to slow her down. The Warm One shifted at the signs of her uneven gait…The Dancers did not notice or speak of the poisonous barb that she had jammed into her ankle. They just danced. Ali just walked. Azrael…smirked.

His name was Kyle. He sought his profits in providing a dragon to chase to the scum and elite of New York City alike. He was thiry-six and he was dead inside. The Dancers danced through the alleyway where he found a broken sobbing creature of feather and fang and fallen grace, a world supernovaing in her head. Her "parents"…Her Robbie…her _**everything,**_ swallowed in D'xias' fists. He was dead inside, and he did not ask to put the needle into her arm and himself into her, so she would be dead inside, too. She went with him. He made the world quiet and he patched the wounds his hands created. His apartment bathroom where he put a gun into her mouth…threatened to put it elsewhere…watching her eyes, waiting for the lights to go out.

Light glinting out…off the barrel of a gun pressed into flesh. Jimmy, Kyle said Monday…it's Tuesday, Jimmy. Bad, _**baaaaaaad**_, Jimmmy. Noel did not see Ryce or Ali in her sunken, fever-bright eyes as she grinned manically at Kyle's purrs of approval. He didn't even hear her. He saw and her heard her brothers and her sisters and the sick pleasures that came with her letting the very worst of what she was wash over the sobbing man kneeling before her. Not enough…never enough to pull the trigger.

Eyes which screamed in hysterical, wordless light that she was no longer the one scared, no longer a _**victim**_. Kyle's eyes who promised she was still all that and more.

("**No, means yes**– Ali, you saved me – **because yes means** – I love you – **never asked for your opinion, you little bitch**.")

All paused as her battered Tin Soldier leaned in to whisper lovingly into her right ear, gratitude for saving him and holding him together, holding her as if she were made of precious spun glass . They were all dead now, but he had her and that kept him from falling apart…Kyle behind her, neither man seeing the other, hands tearing at her clothing and skin, teeth ripping into her left ear as he hissed what a useless, spineless, hole for him to fuck she is and was and would always be for not pulling the fuckin' trigg-

The Office Door was before him, the knob just in finger's rea-.

**(BLAM! BLAM!)** Down Down. Two shots and two bodies. Kyle's friend, who put cigarettes out on her thigh so he could watch her skin heal…the other, a client who ran his hands under her skirt when Kyle's eyes were not on him…and Kyle himself saved for last. The world around them had halted, the scene playing out before him untouched by the disorientating swirl of her fading mind. Just this and the Screaming Man.

"…oh my g-…what did you…y-you…oh my god…what did you do! WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU BITCH!"

Her eyes bleared at him, blood on her face and on her hands. His client and friend were on the floor. Their grey matter was on the wall behind them. They were safe. They were dead.

"You don't deserve this," she whispered. Something hardened beneath the haze and a tiny flame flickered in her stare, "You deserve the _**Nothin,'**_ jus' outside this window."

Her lips pulled back into a feral snarl, fangs bared, "But I won't let that…Deny. Me. THIS. _**PLEASURE**_**!**"

**(BLAM!)**

...down…

Noel would later remember having a hard time telling whose satisfaction – hers or his own – curled up in him as the sight of the body hitting the ground.

Around him and around her, the others were fading…_Goodbye, Morgan…Goodbye, Eddie…Goodbye, Tin Solider Robbie …I miss you, m'comin,'_ is what he heard her whispering without words as her back slid down the apartment walls. The steady presence and the comfort of the Warm One had departed from behind Noel, a cold chill seeping into him and the child left staring out into nothing on the floor…staring into nothing because _oh god above, it hurts so bad_.

…and the girl who would become Ryce put the barrel of the gun into her own mouth.

**(BLAM!)**

The harsh crack of the gun echoed again and again and again. Over and over, the meta watched as her wrist was snapped, her hand and the gun it clutched, folding back against her forearm. On loop, he saw that the wall she leaned against was no longer a wall but the Office Door, into which the fired shot kept disappearing, leaving no damage in its wake. His stomach clenched tightly as her tired eyes snapped open, not in pain…in fear.

What came next continued on the other side of the apartment's room, now merely a mirror image of the girl, her repeatedly foiled suicide and breaking wrist. It was not hard to recognize Azrael, even in this state of unabated rage. Noel could not hear, but he could see his mouth moving in silent, heated snarls and screams, his daughter cowering on the floor. Then, cowering against the wall as he ripped her up by that broken arm and slammed her into it. Each shot from one side of the room accented by a slam. By her wrist…by her neck…wherever he could grip and bruise.

Noel stood, unable to move…unable to even BLINK to free himself from what he was seeing. His own emotions toiled and interlaced with hers, with the nauseous churning that was bubbling up in him and the pain in her. Fingers that were not really there itched to grapple unto the archangel and rip him away from her…to stop the fall of his hand onto her tear-ruined face. He did not WANT to watch any more…to FEEL it any more. Why wouldn't the Screaming Man just SHUT UP! They were in the Hall Behind Him…they were going towards the Office Door. The fear and hate and fear and sickness and oh god, Daddy, please I tried but it hurts so bad he hurt me so bad he took them. I just wanna be with them again, Daddy, let me die and be with them WHY DID HE HAVE TO TAKE MY EDDIEMORGANROBBIE please don't please please pl-

He was warm.

That Warm One was back.

Azrael…his beaten, frightened child…the apartment. It did not fade. It blinked out as if it never was. Because it did not matter when that warmth was here, Noel realized. She missed them all so much, but the Warm One made missing them okay. He could move again, so he turned. The eyes greeted him, but that was not right was it? They were greeting the girl behind him. The shaken but healing creature that warmth was teaching to stand again. He raised his own eyes as she did to meet that stare.

His knees buckled in a way that she had taught her own to not. His heart jumped in a way that she would never want to lose. A symphony curled lowly through her and into him… aching…wanting…having and yet not. Not even caring about the not, so long as she could have at least _**this**_. All this and more…and Noel finally understood everything about Ryce by looking into those happy, half-lidded eyes. He understood because in that moment he felt as she did…how utterly and hopelessly in love she was.

…It too faded…

All that remained was himself…

…and the Office Door.

The knob…turned.

"…_n_…O…**.e**….l…?"

It was just a crack, the type of shift that could merely be the movements of a door that had not fully clicked into place when last shut. Just a crack. Just enough to see a sliver of light from within. To hear Ryce's choking gravel…grave dirt-crusted voice. Noel smiled and lifted his hands up from his sides, up to his unblinking eyes. He would start with the right and then left…he'd have to twist his wrist just right to rip them out. It was the only way to see beyond the door without the sleeping worms fallen up from old stars. The dust and feathers would choke them out. The taste of rotted grapes went away when you removed the left and returned when you removed the right…eat me, drink me, _**WeAR mE**_…the old things wait screaming that final song that ends the Earth and Her Eye is alwasy wa….TcH…inG...uuuuU…SSsSs…feathered worms and grapes and DUST AND ALWAYS THE GOAT HER EYE AND OH GOD AZRAEL WHAT HAVE YOU DONE! WHATHAVEYOUDONETOYOURDAUGH-

**(SLAM!)**

The Office Door cracked shut in a canon-fire roar. Dimly, Noel heard the Screaming Man come back, a bizarrely comforting sound as the Office Door loomed before him for only a moment longer. Then, it flew back into the black, down the Hall…into nothing. It was gone. He was alone. It was only then he realized his fingers had begun to hook into the flesh of his eyelids and forced them back down to his sides. His mouth…rotted grapes…

Someone was before him. It was not the Warm One.

"Get. Out."

The voice dripped with ice and venom. With the promise of so many dark and terrible things. Her eyes gave much the same promise, inhuman, glittering glass glaring at him. And her face.

Noel surprised himself with the sound of his own voice, "Ryce?"

No. Not Ryce. Her face. Her body. But Not Ryce.

"You should not be here," Not Ryce said quietly, "GET. OUT."

Noel frowned, eyes narrowing, "I'm trying to save her."

A lock of red obscured his vision. Without thinking, he went to brush the hair out of the way, before giving pause.

"There are no masks here, Noel Collins. You are…what you are. No glamours and no games," Not Ryce explained this sudden revert back to his human form. Much of the ice was gone, replaced by cool neutrality, perhaps even resignation, "We all are."

It was only then he saw the form curled close to her feet, the subtle and shaky rise and fall of its chest as it breathed, as if occasionally it needed to struggle to keep doing so. Not Ryce stood between them, guarding. It was a patchwork body. Frail, naked save for a thin sheet, flesh equally thin and delicate as the sheet straining over sharp angles and planes of bone. Her wings lay mangled behind her, patches of red leaking through unraveling bandages that appeared to barely be holding the limbs together. The girl had been torn asunder and reassembled by calloused and uncaring hands, her flesh stitched back together in black, crude twine like a rag doll.

Ryce slept on unaware.

"What did you do to her!" Noel snarled.

Not Ryce tilted her head in only vaguely interested curiosity, before glancing down at her charge, "I tried to put her back together as best I could. I still am. Jus' as you all have done. Jus' as Adam before you. As the virus' survivors before him. She is healin' far faster than I could have ever hoped."

"Healing from what?" he insisted and was brushed casually aside.

"You should not be here," her tone was growing an almost bored edge to it.

"Yes, you mentioned that. I am saving her. What the hell are YOU doing? Furthermore, what the hell are you?"

"M'Ryce."

"No, you're not."

"No m'not," she chuckled, the sound sending an unpleasant crawling feeling along Noel's skin, "She did not ask to be saved."

Noel gritted his teeth, biting back as much venom as he could as the words flew from his mouth, "She is our friend. She doesn't HAVE to ASK."

That seemed to hit some nerve of interest in Not Ryce as she turned to, finally, look back at him. Eyebrows raised, she tilted her head to the side, her cool eyes seeing through him in a way he did not like, "Oh? You are friends are you?"

"Of course."

A smile...more of his skin crawled, "Even after what you have seen here? You smelled the blood, heard the clink of the casin's on the floor…tasted the gun oil and powder in the air as Master Kyle fell."

_She moves like Azrael, smooth, skating…snake- like_, Noel thought as she circled back around him towards Ryce's sleeping form.

"More than that? You felt her _**joy**_ when the bullet struck home. So Mr. Collins…Mr. Hero with his pretentious pseudo-messiah mantel…is she _**really**_ still your friend?"

The answer came without hesitation, the finality in his voice clear, "Yes. Are we done?"

Moments hung between them, heavy and pregnant with thick silence, shielded away from the muffled outer-world Noel could just barely hear himself. Not Ryce's eyes did not drop from his, even when she bent to sit, her form hanging in the blackness as if relaxed into a large throne or seat that Noel could not see. Resignation washed back over those cool (and matching, he noted) eyes. Dare he even think it, there may have been sadness.

"Aye…as I thought. You could not make this easy. Your kindness is a cruelty today, Noel."

"Is this some sort of test? If so, you can fuck off, too. You are wasting my time and she is dying, now stay out of my w-"

She cut him off again, apparently it was a habit with her, "How long have you been our guest, Mr. Collins? How much time has passed?"

It was a weird question, even weirder was Noel's inclination to answer her so quickly instead of getting back to work, "Six…maybe eight minutes at most."

Laughter, she found something in his answer clearly amusing. Head shaking, she lifted a hand, clicking her fingers. In the darkness, he suddenly could see the ruined streets, as if through a window looking in. Raven's mouth was moving. He could not hear her though, it was drowned out by the all but deafening roar of the Screaming Man. Blood was leaking from his nose, eyes, ears and mouth…his face twisted in a grimace of horrific pain.

He was the Screaming Man.

"S'been five seconds. In two more, m'goin' to forcibly remove you. If we are fortunate, your insufferable need to live up to your mantel will not cost you your life. As is, you have already endured several brain hemorrhages and strokes. I believe you are scarin' your demon mate terribly," Not Ryce drawled as she came up beside him, sounding very uninterested.

"I'm not going anywhere without her."

Not Ryce's eyes followed the path his hand pointed out, coming to rest on the struggling-to-breath form laying amongst the blackness. The sight softened something in Not Ryce, stirred something in her that may have been affection. Once more, she glided back over to Ryce's side, hovering over her with an air of possessiveness.

It was only now that Noel noticed the stillness that had fallen over this place, the relative quiet in comparison to the previous roil of chaos. Through the dark, he could vaguely hear a soft trill of a violin…two of them in fact, blending together in a soft, engaging duet. Something bittersweet and precious in its rarity. He did not have to ask how he knew that it was the father and daughter making that song.

A giggle caused him to glance back. Ali was in the Big Tent, the man who should have been her father, handing her a piece of chocolate angel cake. There had been more people in the tent then…but he only saw the three. The three who mattered most. Morgan, Eddie, Robbie all smiling as she blew out birthday candles for the first time in her life.

"She s'goin'…there s'not much time left now," Not Ryce whispered.

"Why are you doing this?" Noel turned, "Why are you so against her having a _chance_?"

Not Ryce did not answer him with words; she merely continued to watch the scene play out before them. The three had faded and the Big Tent had gone with them. Alaryce was younger, perhaps only thirteen or fourteen, standing alone in the Dark Walled Room. The chairs at the long table sat empty, her footsteps echoing in the cavernous hall. Noel watched as she shut her eyes, a small, secret smile on her face. He watched as the air above those seats shimmered and thickened, specters of her imagination glittering into being. The faces that sneered and jeered at her presence. The mouths that spat on her as she passed by…and they were smiling.

The visage of an Archangel at the table's head, smiling.

She stood beside him, an heir. Not a place holder…an equal. But that was not what was warming her in this fantasy. Her brothers and sisters…her father…

They were smiling _at her_.

This…was all she ever wanted.

And it was fading. That one last desperate desire of a day-dreaming child. Given up on…lost…foolish. The girl was aging before his eyes, the chairs and their smiling faux-siblings growing dimmer with each passing year. Only Azrael remained…only her father's pride was clung to. Ali and her silly fantasies died…Ryce took her place.

The dream of a simple smile was gone.

The Dark Walled Room was gone.

Ryce stood without the hopeless fantasy…in the Tower kitchen.

He and his teammates were sitting there, talking animatedly amongst themselves. It was the night after the mall incident. Noel no longer recalled what they were all talking about, tucking into the dinner Ryce had prepared for them. It was only now he noticed that Ryce stood apart from them, over by the stove, watching. Watching them talk and eat with a look of child-like confusion. Overwhelmed…afraid…none of them had seen it. Even when they called her over to eat too. Even when she sat down right across from him. Victor was saying something to her, messing up her hair and laughing. Rob was stealing something off her plate while he did so. No one saw her eyes glistening, or the fragile, scared smile she returned.

They were smiling _at her_.

…and it was real.

"She…is happy, Noel," Not Ryce's voice was so tired and quiet that he would have thought it to come from a different person, "She no longer has to dream. You all have given her that. M'doin' this because I wish for her to sleep under the memory of THIS. Not what s'comin' for her. Somethin' so terrible…so cruel. I cannot see it, but I can feel it slouchin' out of the night towards her. Noel Collins…Savior…live up to your name.

"Have mercy and let Alaryce Gallagher die today."

Noel refused to meet Not Ryce's stare. There was something ancient and inhuman in it. Ancient and inhuman, like the way that she moved. Instead, he looked down at the broken doll by her feet, watching the breathing that was coming in shorter, softer, more shallow gasps. Something terrible was coming. He believed the creature. Something that it did not think they could save Ryce from. There was something stronger though, something that he could not let go of or unsee.

Not Ryce moved like Azrael.

"…No."

The Screaming Man – _" Nigel we have to cut the sh-"_ – was back and his vision of Ryce's trembling form was beginning to dim. Only now – the danger of changing his mind, past – did Noel look up at Not Ryce. Still, the inhuman stare. Now though, there was something different. It was beyond human. It was beyond grief.

"She will forgive you, Noel Collins."

He had to keep hold, he knew if he ( "-_vior let go!")_ was forced out now…he would not be able to drag her back. The darkness was fading.

Behind her…the Office Door loomed and rattled.

Not Ryce was afraid.

"…but I think that will make the agony of it all the worse."

"_**NOEL**_!"

Blood…he tasted blood. He'd screamed his throat open. Tears and torrents of it were dripping from his mouth, eyes, nose…a confused sensation of warmth from his ears as well. The world seemed to move so slowly as disoriented babble fell from his mouth

"…un'sh d'dur…"

The ruined streets were gone, replaced by nothing but endless sky. Purple and blue swirling into each other as the poison drained from the grievous wound inflicted on it. They were calling to him, cold metal hands on his face. Not sharp…not Nigel. Soft hands cradling his head…muttering unworldly words as a black glow flickered at the corner of his eye. He had to warn her…warn Raven if nothing else.

"….d-dun…touch…t'Door…"

He fought the hands trying to steady his red drenched face, turning his head.

Nigel had her in his arms. Even as the confusing world grayed out at the edges of his sight…he could see her chest had stilled.

A clawed hand shut Ryce's eyes for her.

Noel's world went dark.

* * *

_I don't belong here, I gotta move on dear **escape** from this afterlife  
'Cause this time I'm right to **move on and on**, far away from here  
Got nothing against you and surely **I'll miss you**  
This place full of **peace** and **light**, and I'd **hope** you might  
take me **back inside** when the time is right_


	19. Chapter 19

_So this is what you meant  
When you said that you were **spent**  
And now it's **time to build** from the bottom of the pit  
Right to the top  
**Don't hold back**  
Packing my bags and giving the academy a rain check ~ Imagine Dragons "It's Time"_

* * *

…_Dreamless_…

* * *

The first thing to hit him was the sheer lack of smell. The cold, nothing-odor that came along with sterile surfaces, white walls, and fluorescent lights. Groggily, his mind tried to piece together the world beyond his closed eyes. A hospital, perhaps? Why would he be in a hospital? Furthermore, why was he attempting to figure this out now when some much desired sleep was still easily within his grasp? Shifting a bit, Noel tried to regain a position of greater comfort, ignoring the weak cough his dry throat gave out.

Someone placed a straw to his mouth. It was at this point the meta decided that he very well must have been dreaming. Nothing explained the hazy surreal air that seemed to cling to everything in this half-woken delusion. On reflex, Noel took a sip, grateful if nothing else, to get rid of the tiresome thirst that was making sleep more diffi-

_-Grapes rot the goat sees youherthemNoel oh gods Noel don'ttouchtheDOOR!-_

Noel gagged on the liquid decay that filled his mouth. His arms trashed, his body rocketed, his eyes wild and wide. The world around him was bright and white, and his mind raced with foreign thoughts and images. Floor boards and Needles and Doors oh my. She would forgive him and how it would hur-

"Noel! Noel, calm down!"

The order, gruff but not unkind, managed to snap Savior to his senses. It was a voice he knew. The world had begun to regain definition. Not a hospital. Of course not. He was in the Tower's med-bay. He was in the Tower's med-bay and the voice, of course, belonged to the med-bay's natural dweller.

Nigel placed a gentle claw on his shoulder, careful to avoid the bandages that wrapped around his bare chest, "Noel…you're okay. Back home, safe and sound…just lie on ba-"

"Wh-what happened?" Noel's voice came out a dry croak. It reminded him of old paper. His doctor wordlessly held the straw back up to him, only for Noel to jerk away from it as if it contained some noxious substance, "s'it?"

"Just watered down apple juice. Your sugar is low."

Apple juice. Not grape. Noel shook his head to clear it as he took the cup, forgoing the straw to sip at it carefully. It seemed silly he thought otherwise when the tart, but diluted, taste hit his tongue. Also silly, why would it have bothered him if it had been grape? If anything, Noel Collins usually liked grape. He could not remember. It was then, he realized, he could not quite remember a lot of things.

"Drink it slowly. It is a bit late for me to have to clean if you get sick again."

"Again?" Noel asked, realizing for the first time that it was the middle of the night.

Nigel nodded, forgoing in his attempts to make the man lay back down, "I see you don't remember. You did not react well to the soup Raven attempted to feed you earlier. Either that or you really did not like the blouse she had on. You have a very patient girlfriend, by the way."

Finally, Noel noticed the figure in the large chair pulled up next to his bed. The back of it had been slightly reclined, no doubt done by Nigel after the woman had nodded off. It still did not look like a comfortable manner to sleep in. Even for him, it was odd to see her in dressed so comfortably in a simple shirt and pants. The civilian garb and lack of typical cloak made his eyes draw instantly to the white bandages wrapped tightly around her shoulder. The sight brought back a hazy memory. The battle-ruined streets…Ryce…Raven…her face…that sword….

Noel started, his hand brushing a strand of violet hair out of his significant other's face. "Is she-"

"Raven is fine. She fared relatively well outside of the one wound. She hasn't left the med-bay since we returned home, though. I have to say I did not argue with her much," the Blacktrianin sighed, glancing at the woman tiredly. "What little healing she had the strength to do has made certain injuries far easier to contend with. You in particular. You bleed a lot…don't do that anymore."

Noel nodded, his memory trickling back in bit by slow bit. D'xias. The fight. Azrael standing there, doing nothing as…

Nigel had shut her eyes.

A heavy sigh fell from the typically white-haired meta. He had tried to save her. Tried to at the very least to ensure they lost one and not two. He wondered if it made it worse that it had to be _them_ – the youngest ones – the ones least mentally equipped to look into the horror of something like D'xias.

_You know that's a lie now, though…you may not remember it all…but you remember enough of Ryce_. _You remember Kyle and his gun and__ you remember__ the taste of blood as she watched __D'xias tear__ through a man who loved her like a father_, his mind whispered. Rob was not ready for this. Robert Candide was the foil of goofy villains and tacky themes…he was a hero of the lighter side. He was not someone built to stare into the eyes of something that crawled out of the abyss. Noel knew that Ryce _**was**_. She was more ready than any child had any right being. All those smiles and all that life, and none of it a mask. Seeing the scars he had seen, Noel wondered how that was possible.

He also wondered if such question even mattered anymore.

"…How long have I been out? Did the parents…make preparations?" Noel asked his voice strained and weary._'For the funerals'_ was left unsaid, but hung heavily in the air.

"Preparations?" Nigel asked, blinking, with his exhaustion written deeply in those eyes.

"Rob…Ryce…"

Confusion came first, then understanding, "I didn't bother with an IV. You seemed aware enough since you were willing to drink on your own. I guess you were more out of it than we first assumed. Your eyes were open and you rambled occasionally so we had thought you'd retain some memory."

Noel glanced at the taller Titan, "Memory of what? What do you mea-"

His questioning was cut unceremoniously short by a sudden crash from behind the curtain separating them from the rest of the medical bay. Cringing, the Titans' doctor glared into the obstructing cloth. The clattering had seemed much louder in the current dark and quiet of the room.

Nigel ripped his way out of the curtain to hiss, "What did I just tell you? Leave the IV line alone! Pull it over one more time and I am taking it away from you!"

From his position, Noel couldn't see his roommate, but he did hear his slurred and incomprehensible reply, apparently having a few choice words to say about this. What those choice words were, Noel doubted even Nigel fully understood.

"I don't care if you are hurt. If you wake her up again, I am going to have her come over here and smother you with a pillow. In your state, she won't need more than one hand to do it, I assure you," Nigel further warned as Noel shifted off his cot with a wince. The floor felt bizarrely cold against his feet.

The slurred speech came again, a bit easier to understand as he approached the curtain. Furthermore, that voice was becoming more recognizable. Noel would be lying if he claimed he was not getting his hopes up as he pulled back the cloth.

"Dun le'er ne'm'gurlfreh…"

A moment of silence passed before Nigel sighed at the blond man in the bed, working to untangle the wires his patient had knotted together, "Robert, I cannot stress this enough. Your morphine drip is NOT your girlfriend. It is not even a woman. It is a morphine drip. A morphine drip you are no longer being allowed to control."

A glassy-eyed, Robert Candide snorted incredulously at the doctor. With a neck heavily bandaged in gauze and a slack expression, he did not seem to notice he was being watched, reaching out to the lines again, "…got toes…j'llo…"

Nigel lightly tapped him away from causing more damage to his equipment, "I am happy that the numbness is fading in your toes, Rob…but you do not get jello every time you can feel a new body part. Go back to sleep."

The man gave a petulant whine, trying to paw at what looked like a small remote attached to the IV next to his bed. Nigel severed its wire connections without a second glance. Though to his credit, Rob appeared none the wiser and continued to press them with a drugged look of serenity, "Neck hur's…"

"I know. She said it would for another day or so. Just keep pressing the button when you need more, okay?" Nigel placated him, resorting to the placebo effect to soothe his friend. Judging by the glazed look to Gauntlet's face, it was a wise choice. Then again, Noel could understand the heavy dosage, given the thick gauze on both the blond man's neck and head along with the peculiarly limp way his other arm still rested against the bed.

"Oh look. Noel's come to see you. Say hello to Noel," Nigel nodded over to the man watching them in an attempt to distract Gauntlet's working hand away from the mess he had made of his equipment as well as the useless morphine button.

Rob's blue eyes gazed blearily up at him, "…jel-?"

"Rob, if you shut up about the jello and go to sleep you can have two when you wake up," Nigel glared placing the now untangled IV pole far out of his arm's reach.

The promise of more seemed to do the trick, the drugged Titan nodding as best he could – though Nigel grabbed his head to get him to stop. After a few more adjustments, the Blacktrinian finally stepped away from the bed and dimmed the light above it, "Good night, Rob."

"Nigh'nigh Ni'el…Ellie," he slurred, his eyes drifting shut.

Closing the curtain, Nigel cast a look to his less troublesome patient, "Get back in bed before you have another brain hemorrhage."

"Ellie?"

"He's got enough morphine in him to take down a horse. Ellie is closer to your name than he got with Garfield…who he keeps calling Steve."

"Are you sure it's just the morphine?" Noel asked, casting a worried glance back at the closed curtain. They had pulled him out of the water. How long had he been without oxygen, he had to wonder. Further, what effect had it had on him?

Nigel seemed to figure his thoughts out without having to ask, "Yes. Scans show normal brain function. Before I hooked him up I had him awake and communicating as best he could to make sure. I couldn't subject him to it for long though. The agony he was in wasn't an act. That toxin in D'xias' blood did a number on his system. He's lucky it didn't completely destroy it entirely. If he keeps regaining nerve function he should be up and moving in a week or so."

"Speaking of luck. How IS he alive?"

Nigel chuckled a bit humorlessly and gestured to his own head, "The man's got a rock for a skull that is how. D'xias managed to hurl him right into a metal buoy out in the bay. Cracked his skull open, but he managed to catch the Gauntlet in it, too. It kept part of his body and head above water until Kory and Gar could find him and bring him ashore."

Noel nodded along with Nigel's explanation. They had all been lucky. Luck, he noted thought, had come with a price. Rob's survival was a relief and weight cleared from his shoulders, but it did not change the last memory Noel had. The sight of Nigel closing Ryce's eyes for her. They were lucky because a very stupid child had done something very stupid.

"-just need to find a way to keep _her_ in her bed. I honestly think she is more upset over his condition, than her own," Nigel continued as he led Noel out into the main floor of the med bay.

"Who?" Noel asked, noting Nigel's smirk as the doctor gestured to the bed they were standing near.

Lucky.

They had been so lucky.

Ryce looked even smaller than normal lying in the medical cot. Perhaps, the effect was greatened by Metatron's short jacket being wrapped around her over a simply sleep top. Like Rob, she had a thick bandage of gauze around her head. Unlike him, hers also raveled down over her left eye in a patch. Hanging off the edge of her bed, he could see that her tail was visible, splinted and casted, notably spineless. Nigel brushed past him to lift the limb back up onto the cot, making the slumbering girl mutter tiredly and curl up a bit.

"She managed to heal the neurological injuries and her wings before I made her stop," He explained to Noel, "It was a battle to get her to accept that her body had enough trauma dealt to it. Most of the broken bones have healed on their own since she went back to sleep."

"She's…alright? I mean she's not…" Noel trailed off, something seemed wrong about her.

"She is not a tomato, as Tara so charmingly put it earlier today," the Blacktrinian nodded, "She IS, however, a certifiable fool who will be spending the week in here with me until her heart damage repairs and her blood pressure goes down."

Noel frowned, still unable to pinpoint the off-ness that plagued the younger girl, "What happened to her heart?"

"Well, besides the sheer stress of what occurred with that sword, Ryce stole mass quantities of adrenaline out of my inventory," Nigel's voice came out a bit gruffer than usual, "The injections of which is how she kept herself going. That she did not give herself a heart attack is a miracle."

_A flash of metal…Kyle was sitting on top of her so she would not struggle…a needle disappearing beneath the pale flesh of the crook of her arm…_

Noel shook his head to clear from it the flashes that he had no right to witness. Forcing himself to focus on something else, what was it about the girl laying in bed that bothered him?

Noel paused. It hit him harshly. He could finally see the lopsided way the sheet laid on her. The Titan doctor had continue to talk, but all Noel could look at was the empty sleeve of Metatron's jacket laying flat against the cot.

"…she is taking it well."

The change in the alien's tone is what brought Noel's attention back to him. The solemn look that had come over Scalpel's features was hard to miss. His strange eyes had locked onto the vacant sleeve.

As if sensing their stares, Ryce gave another sleeping murmur and attempted to roll over unto her side. The jacket half slipped from her left shoulder, revealing a mass of white bandages around the remaining stump.

"There was nothing I could do to save the arm. I barely saved her…well," he paused, his glance shifting over to the shaggy-haired man who had all but crawled up into the cot to sleep beside Ryce, "Adam barely saved her, really."

"What do you mean?" Noel raised an eyebrow at that, "why couldn't it be reattached?"

Nigel sighed, lifting her sheet up to cover the amputation bandages, "Her hand was a lost cause before she even summoned Sizzle…"

* * *

_Nigel shut Ryce's eyes for her. His heart felt heavy with the act, a cold acceptance in a single move. There was no time for grief now. In war, even when the battle ends for the weary soldier, it always continued on for the Doctor just a bit longer. Noel would need treatment. So would the others. Somewhere down on the beach he could see Starfire streaking back up towards them. She did not carry with her Robert's body…no, she was shouting to him of Gauntlet's being ALIVE. _

_They were lucky…right?_

_He had been about to hand her body off to Adam when awareness seized him. It had been less than an hour before when he felt this instinct last: He was being watched. Body tense, he barely felt the shift of movement. Twitching and tired muscles weakly attempting to act. Instead, he heard the shuttering intake of breath. He had shut Ryce's eyes._

_Ryce had opened them back up._

"…_h…hu…r'sss…"_

"_RAVEN!" _

_She had already been in the middle of porting several of them home when he called out. His cry ensured that the empath seized unto the gasping teenager as well. A black-clawed hand grappled unto Nigel's battle torn coat as the blackness swallowed them all. The dark shrieked for a moment through the Titan, pressing on him from all sides as if he was squeezing through a space too small. When he was released from the crushing embrace, it was to the harsh white light of his med-bay exploding around him. _

_She had brought them back to the Tower, Noel propped up weakly between herself and Sophie. His red hair had been stained even darker by his injuries, by the steady stream of blood leading from each nostril as his head lolled bonelessly against his shoulders. Ryce was still looking up at him, her dilated paper-thin right pupil flared with aware pain. _

"_Give her to me," a voice ordered calmly, the black claws that had seized his coat pulled her trembling body out of Nigel's hands. Behind him, Nigel could hear Noel's voice calling out in a choking garble of gibberish. Something about a door…and grapes…a man named Kyle…only Noel knew what his yammering could mean. _

"_Sophie, push a few CC's of-" Nigel began only for her to cut him off._

"_Raven and I can handle him. Focus on her."_

_Adam was already doing so. He had limped back to one of the med-bay cots, settling her half onto it and half into his lap, "Don't go towards the light, munchkin. Come to the darkside…I mean yea…sure they have Muppets…but we have cookies. What IS the appeal of Kermit the frog, anyway? Who got up one day and thought a frog was the right animal for children to idolize? Or a mouse. Or a rabbit. Cats, I get."_

_It was surreal to see Ryce's bloodied face try to twitch into a smile. _

"_Ryce? I need you to look at me," Nigel stood above her, a light flashing again into her eyes to watch her pupils, "No talking. Blink twice if you understand me."_

_Blink. _

_Blink._

"_Good girl," Nigel whispered, eyes examining her body to trace the highest priority. A wet cloth started white, ran crimson in seconds as he wiped away the blood, revealing that many of the wounds had been cauterized shut earlier by Met. All wounds in fact, save for the broken still bleeding mess that was once her left arm. Already, the white sheet beneath her was awash in dark red. _

"_Shit," Nigel hissed in a rare moment of English profanity as he took it in. The sword was still in her…hand. It couldn't even be called a hand any more. The whole of her fingers and palm warped about the handle like a melted mass of black__,__ pulsing and bloodied flesh. A sick lump of melted wax__. A__ bad Halloween prop. Not a hand. There was no seam where her fingers should have ended__ – there_were_ no fingers at all__,__ just corrupted flesh._

"_I can't save the hand," he said clinically._

"_You can't save the arm either," Met informed him in a manner that suggested they were talking about something like the weather._

_Nigel knew the half-demon was correct: Broken white fragments of her shattered bones were poking up out of the black and red knots of flesh. The very bones were streaked with that noxious black corruption. In fact, Nigel let loose another vulgar snarl when he found the black had begun to creep up her upper arm as well, The veins darkened before his eyes, inching through her flesh like cracks through ice. Beneath the creeping corruption, it was rendering her limb to shattered bone, leaving flesh as raw chopped-meat of black and red. _

"_It can't reach her heart."_

"…_Nope," Met agreed, so infuriating in his serenity. "She's back out again."_

_Nigel could not wait. In a blur of mechanical movements, he sterilized the upper portion of her arm, his own claws followed suit. Forgoing traditional medical tools he pressed the bladed edge into her skin. Nothing. Not a single, splitting seam in the flesh. Not so much as even a dent presented itself. The skin beneath his finger felt tough under the black and red gore. Ancient leather that was sturdier than steel. And still the black taint crept further up along her arm. It would encompass her shoulder soon. _

"_Move."_

_Nigel had barely pulled his fingers away in time before the overhead light flashed against metal. Metatron held something glowing in his hand, that hadn't been there a second ago. It couldn't have been: As focused as he was on Ryce, the Blacktranian's hypersensitive senses would never have missed the low hissing of the object against Metatron's palm, the smoke seeping out of his fist…the smell of burning flesh assaulting his nose. It was only then that Nigel realized that the glowing something was a sharp, jagged shard of something. And it was cooking Metatron at touch._

_The Morning Child winced in what could only be called good-natured grimace, as if resigned to the pain, but still not liking it and having no problem in making that known. "Always hate this part," he whispered gently, his eyes narrowing with thought._

_The shard…resisted. That's the only word Nigel could think to describe it, refusing to give an inch as it shifted in quick bursts, like a stalling car. It moved fluidly, elongating into a very ragged-looking handle-less short sword. With a tired sigh, Metatron swung._

_Soundlessly, the glowing, cracked blade split the toughened, sallow – but living – tissue just above the encroaching disease. Nigel watched with wide eyes as the black attempted to surge up at the sharp edge the half-demon had cut it with. It came within an inch before flinching backwards, unable to get near enough to the blade to touch let alone force out. _

_They stood together as the black, mangled mess hit the ground, almost screeching in furious agony._

_Neither spoke._

* * *

"What was it?" Noel asked, though his eyes didn't move from Adam's bandaged hand.

"I don't know, yet. But it did the trick. It…at first I thought it was a Fang shard, but Raven said they weren't remotely related, though she couldn't see more. She didn't dare touch it to examine closer. Said that the closer she got, the more she felt like she was approaching a raging inferno. Tim wants to ask Met about it later when they are both awake," Nigel explained, one of his hands gently taking Noel's arm. He was leading him back to his bed, "He hasn't left her side since though. If nothing else he is at least keeping her mostly in her bed. She has to be the most difficult patient I've ever seen."

"At least she has not introduced your shirt to half-digested broth," a voice chimed in from behind them both.

With a cringe, Noel turned to look at Raven, trying to muster up the best apologetic look he had available. Despite her words, despite what was clearly crippling exhaustion, she managed small, kind smile for him.

"You should be in bed," she reminded him, as if Nigel's poking and pulling at his arm was not clear enough.

"I was just heading back to it," he explained, allowing the pale woman to take his hand in hers. She wasted no time in leading him back to the cot with its nightmare-rumpled sheets. The sight of them made his stomach contents – even as lacking as they were – sway uneasily with some degree of indefinable dread. Before he had so much as a second to ponder this reaction, he could feel Raven's hand squeezing his own. It broke him back, chased away the phantoms that he couldn't place.

Crawling into the cot, wincing at the pangs and aches doing so caused, he glanced over to his friends. Raven was already placing a cool hand on his shoulder, helping him ease back down on to the pillow. Nigel had made his way to the other side of his bed, his all-too-lethal fingers carefully testing and checking the bandages he had hours ago wrapped. Exhaustion was written into every line of their faces, it fanned out across the darkening circles beneath their sunken eyes.

"Both of you need to rest," he managed to get out, his eyelids already feeling unbearably heavy as he settled back unto the cot.

"Shh…" was Raven's only reply as she tucked the sheet back around him, avoiding touching the bandages wrapping his chest.

Nigel was a bit more forthcoming, "I will be heading back to my room shortly, Noel. Do not worry."

Noel wasn't worried. He was asleep.

* * *

Noel opened his eyes to an empty room.

…No. Not empty, simply eerily quiet. Its few inhabitants were breathing soundlessly, dozing through the early morning. Crusted with sleep, his eyes swept the room as best he could. Air gently breezed into the room, signaling an open window somewhere, and he still felt alone.

"…Hello?"

His call out into the silence was answered by a small snore from several feet away, beyond the curtained cots. It had come from where he knew Nigel's desk to be. It did not take much guessing to figure out that Nigel never quite made it out of the med-bay. Something he had claimed to be getting ready to do hours ago if the soft sunlight lightening the room was any indication.

Sighing, Noel moved to stand, and to hell with the doctor's orders. He did not believe he could go back to sleep, and was feeling a little too antsy to just stay in bed all things considered. Still tired, but too wired. It was an odd contradiction given how much sleep he had racked up since D'xias fell. He did not dwell on this though, instead slipping away from his bed and towards the center of the room.

There was a soft, natural light about the slightly darkened room. The sun was just beginning to creep over the Tower and through its windows. The curtain around the bed next to his was drawn tightly shut, effectively sealing out any and all light from reaching the blond man slumbering within it.

A glance to his right showed that the same slumbering could not be said of the other bed. Hours ago, there had been two nearly shapeless lumps on the cot spooned together in sleep. Now, even from across the room, he could see that there was only one person laying there, his typically shaggy, two-tone hair rendered more so from the pillow. The cot's thin sheet was hanging off the edge and pooling on the floor. Someone had recently crawled out of it.

Noel frowned, and considered waking Nigel. But in doing so he realized the doctor would probably just make him go back into bed. Something he didn't want to put up with. Inwardly, the meta wondered if maybe her healing kickstarted again.

Or maybe…

He moved the curtains around Rob's bed a bit, peering in. Nigel had indicated her distress over Gauntlet's condition earlier, so much that it was causing her to fret and hover at the expense of her own wellbeing. There was no harm in making sure Ryce didn't just crawl in there at one point to continue her deranged mother hen tendencies.

Rob slept soundly, looking at peace in spite of the thick bandages. They were newer than what he had seen, and Noel gave a small grimace at them, once again reminded of how lucky his teammate was that he wasn't paralyzed by the attack on his nerves and subsequent broken vertebrae. Lucky that he had not drowned. Most people – and heroes – might not have come out of it without more permanent damage.

For all his musings, though, his teammate was alone behind the curtain.

Stepping back, he walked towards the exit, looking out and trying to ignore how his head seemed to protest the movement and thoughts running through it. Another breeze curled through the room rustling the curtain around Rob's bed, followed by a soft creaking as the door into the hall swung a bit on its hinges. Had he noticed earlier, he wouldn't have had to check Rob's bed. Nigel never left the door open like that when the med-bay was in use.

The hallway was just as eerily quiet as the room he was leaving. A glance in either direction found it deserted. He was not used to a silent Tower, even at this hour in the morning. If nothing else, Tim was usually already up and about. Noel was presented with two options: Down one side of the hallway lay the kitchen, down the other, the missing maid's bedroom. Straining to hear some sort of sound from one way or the other, Noel came up empty-handed. With a sigh, he simply moved towards her room, making a conscious effort not to question why he was even seeking her out when his head pounding like this. He convinced himself that with the shimmer, he should not be worried.

The walk was a short one. As usual the door was shut. Vaguely, he could remember Beast Boy complaining in the weeks before that she was "another Raven" when it came to locking it. It had been followed by an awkward silence after Ryce had coolly questioned how he would know this unless he had been trying to get in without her knowledge. Noel could not recall if he'd ever seen the shifter shrink into a mouse and scuttle away so quickly before.

Though he wasn't certain the door was locked, he could see was the strip of white stuck in the door hinge. A tiny strip of ripped off bandage stuck in the metal. Noel looked at it and sighed in an exasperated way. A quiet knock and call of, "Ryce?" was met with silence.

Only giving a moment's hesitation, he tried the knob calling out again, "Ryce?"

It had been the first time he'd seen the teenager's room. It was utterly bare, save for a bed and end table next to it. Blank walls and floors. Even the packed boxes Starfire had mentioned before the battle began were no longer in the room's corner. There was something eerie and unsettling about the blankness of the room. A few days ago, he might have claimed how utterly unlike her it was. After seeing what he had in her head though, he was no longer sure that was the case.

He took a minute to let his eyes scan the room and make sure she was not there, hiding somewhere, before closing the door. After some debate, Noel turned back around and headed to the kitchen. On the way he found a few loose pieces of paper occasionally littered on the ground as if they'd be dropped unnoticed. They created more questions than answers, being filled with tiny, cramped, but feminine writing, front and back, scores of names. He recognized none of them.

The kitchen was equally deserted, but like her room it was not without evidence. There was a half eaten bowl of cereal left on the table its contents turning into an unappetizing mush. Much of the dry cereal and the milk that had been poured into the bowl laid in spilled puddles and piles around it. It looked as if a four-year-old had tried to make themselves breakfast, truth be told. Such a thought came with a small pang of guilt. Of course something as simple as that would be more difficult now.

Unsure what to do next, Noel looked around the kitchen for more clues. When he found nothing, he turned to head back to the med-bay, hoping to run into someone who could give him answers regarding their wayward maid. It was as he walked out that he caught a flicker out a passing window, from the corner of his eye. Down on the Tower beach, the flickering and shifting of red and orange signaled a bonfire.

"….What the hell?" he asked, blinking at the bizarre sight on the sandy beach to confirm.

There was a small figure standing close to the flames in the early morning light, and as such, impossible to fully make out. Its movements were awkward as it tossed things into the embers. Once or twice, it looked ready to overbalance and topple over as it worked.

"….You gotta be kidding me," Noel grumbled, heading to the elevator.

A series of dings landed him on the ground floor, and he more-or-less limped towards the exit, his wounds finally making themselves known. Noel approached the campfire with enough noise and soft grunts that his presence was announced long before reaching his destination. The last thing they needed was for him to startle her into burning herself.

It rapidly became clear to him that there had been no 'almost' in 'almost falling into the sands.' The signs of it ranging from her seated position on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest, and a smudge of grit stuck to her face, were telling. The fire crackling away before her was well-made, tightly controlled and confined.

"….are you even cleared to be out here?" Noel asked, after deciding Ryce wasn't going to acknowledge him, "You could get your wounds infected."

His answer was only the sound of the surf and the soft pops of the fire. She didn't even look over at him, choosing to stretch her legs out in front of her with a wince – and with it, dissuading his hope that she felt better. As he frowned at her quiet, she pulled a final book up from her side and tossed it into the flames.

"….s'been over two years," she finally managed, her voice neutral and blank.

Noel's eyes followed the path of the book, taking a closer look at the bonfire. The flames were fueled by planks and logs of wood here and there. But most of its burning took the form of thick books – both store purchases and handmade – with poor, breaking bindings, their bodies blackening and curling quickly. The edge of the flames was littered with remnants of their pages and burnt glossy paper. Photographs. Most of them cramped with tiny letters.

And so, Noel understood.

"It has," he agreed, not sure what else to say. "Is that the last one?"

"Last book," Ryce nodded, a picture still clutched in her hand. She was conflicted, on whether or not this one would join the others. Noel held up his hand in silent request. She still had not looked at him, but her hand tightened on the photo. She refused to part with it, but her fingers nimbly turned it in her hand to show its contents. He did not need to study it closely to recognize the people in it.

After a few more moments, Ryce looked down at it as well. Using her thumb, she wiped away a bit of fallen ash, leaving a dark smear across the other Rob's chest and Morgan's face.

"…I was sure. Sure I'd _**know**_ when this was over. Know that even though I failed then….it made a difference to them I didn't fail here," her voice betrayed nothing. He wasn't sure there was anything there _to_ betray. Noel also noticed that she did not explain anything about the photo beyond that: She just showed it to him as if she knew it needed no explanation.

Because it didn't.

"I remember them, kind of," Noel said quietly, before Ryce spoke. "…They were good people."

She nodded, "…aye, they were."

"…It's never sure," he added gently, "…you'd know better than me. But I think they are proud of you, wherever they ended up."

"….some of them," Ryce whispered without skipping a beat. Noel could tell she was not addressing what he said about their pride, he could see it in her face as she continued, "I always thought dad refused t'tell me where they went 'cause he was angry with me," a hollow laugh accented her words, "Guess he was jus' protectin' me from findin' out in his own fucked up way."

With a heavy sigh, Ryce curled her legs back up to her chest, "I…froze then. I d'no if you saw that. I d'no what you saw. I know it wouldn't have made a difference if I hadn't," here she paused, fighting with herself to get the words out, "…but I jus'…I need you to tell me this made a difference to them," oranges, pinks, and reds mirrored back in her tired eyes as she stared into the flickering flames, "to all of them."

Noel watched her quietly, and then turned his gaze to the fire. He didn't really know what he could do to assure her, to convince her in a legitimate, real way, without just saying something that felt empty and parroted. He did not want to patronize her, not over something like this. Sighing, he wished Metatron were here: He'd likely have something more apt to say than what he did.

"You can lie…too bleedin' tired to tell the difference anyway," she tried smiling. She failed.

His hand touched her shoulder. It was still cool at the tips from his stay in the chilled, sterilized bay, but quickly pooling warmth into both of them.

"Of course it made a difference," he said gently, "To everyone – not just _them_, but _everyone_. All of us too. Everyone that we saved. Everyone that you didn't. It made a difference. We won – and we're alive. There's Justice in that."

"Accomplishment or satisfaction….maybe he's got the right idea 'bout ignorin' the difference," Ryce whispered, making Noel wonder if she was addressing him or herself. Whichever it may have been though, she did not give him time to ponder, craning her neck to finally look up at him, "How's your head?"

Noel's mouth twisted in distaste at her earlier statement, not caring if she had merely been musing to herself out loud, "An idea veered entirely to self-indulge is never the right one."

Ryce shrugged neutrally, looking expectant. With a frown, he answered, "Ok, I guess. Bit dizzy. Can't sleep, but not a problem…easily distracted too, it seems. You need to go back in; you're going to irritate your injuries."

Her mouth ticked a bit at that before curling up at the edges in a queer, wry amusement, "I think irritated cuts are the least of my problems right now, dun' you?" As if taking part of the macabre levity, a gentle breeze rustled the empty sleeve at her side.

"…maybe," Noel agreed with a tired sigh. He didn't much care for dark jokes, especially on topics so raw and fresh, "But a lost limb isn't going to keep your injuries from getting infected and why add more to your already filled pile? Come on. We should go."

The Titan moved to stand, considering the matter closed. When he looked down though, he could see that she was not following his lead. The amusement on her face was gone. It had been replaced with clear insecurity and uncertainty. She was avoiding his eye again, instead staring at her bare feet. For a few seconds, that was all she was able to do: Remain silent and watch her toes curl, digging miniatures furrows in the sand only for the sides to cave in to refill them.

"Are you goin' to tell them?"

Noel stared blankly at her, "…tell them what?"

She hesitated before finding her voice again, "…I don't delude myself into pretendin' M'a good or decent person Noel," Ryce explained, "I own what I've done…what I can remember at least. There are…holes sometimes," She sighed, shaking her head. "Doesn't matter. I dunno what you saw, but I know myself well enough that parts of it were….let's be delicate and call it 'unflatterin'."

Noel stood by her side as a rush of images flooding his brain with each word, as if they were triggering the memories. Face stretching into a frown, he had to admit, "…huh. …To be honest, I didn't recall much of that until you mentioned it."

"Y'wouldve," she nodded with quiet, resigned certainty.

There was a distinct discomfort to Noel's body language with the way Ryce said that, but he didn't push it. There was no need to, "…What do you want me to say? None of us are saints here, Ryce. We can only do the best we can with what we had. And so could you. It…was a hard situation. I'm not exactly bouncing in joy at what you did… and if you tried it right now, I'd stop you."

"You're sugar coatin' it….and avoidin' the question," she ran her fingers through the sands, her tone oddly light.

"No, I'm being honest. You did what you could to deal….and that's not always done in healthy ways. Sometimes it's done in outright stupid ways. It happened, and you're no longer that person. As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter," Noel shrugged. "What do YOU want to do?"

A frown made its way across her face, and she glanced at him, "They already know I was a drug addict…some of them at least. You know that's not what I meant."

"I wasn't talking about the drugs. I think _you_ know that," Noel countered, though not unkindly.

Once more they fell into the awkward silence in which Ryce seemed unwilling – or perhaps unable – to say anything in return. When she did find her voice, it was small, and young, "….I don't wanna know what you saw. I don't want anyone to know. Tha's what I want."

"…ok," Noel shrugged again, wincing as the action sent sharp pangs he'd been ignoring through his body. Easy, and simple. No complications. Just ok. He may have imagined it, but he was pretty sure he saw a sudden tension fall out of her body as she sat there.

"Are we going back?" Noel finally asked, offering his hand.

There was little to no hesitation in her this time, "…aye…" she whispered, taking the hand and struggling to her feet as best she could. Her form moved in a graceless, awkward manner that made Noel cringe inwardly. Once she was to her feet though, she did not turn to walk back to the Tower. Instead, she stared thoughtfully into the fire. Noel heard a quiet rustling sound from behind her, and turned.

Ryce's wings arced back away from her body, their mismatched forms spreading behind her. They moved with a ginger hesitance that told him they were not quite back to 100% after D'xias' abuse. Gentle movement aside, they carried an odd elegance that the rest of her awkwardly adjusting gestures did not have. Noel watched her, finding the tender movements somehow graceful, and even beautiful. Healed or not, they rushed forward with a single powerful gust that slammed into the flames.

For a fraction of a second, it seemed it would fuel the fire all the more, red and oranges giving a violent flare up towards the early morning sky, but then it was overcome and extinguished, bits of ash and debris tumbling away from the ruins along the sand. Silent all the while, his eyes trailing over the wings, Noel waited for her to be ready.

They faded and she was back to looking small, tired and lopsided. Out of the corner of his eye, Noel noticed her slip a hand into her pocket. She never did throw the picture into the flames, he recalled. He was secretly glad for this, though he would not be voicing it to her. It would never be good to sever all ties. Not now, not ever. A swell of foreign tenderness and grief echoed vaguely though him. Never.

He was quiet as he waited, his mind lingering on how strange her wings truly looked, how strange these emotional waves felt so alien.

"…M'tired…and hungry…" she finally announced with a nod, making her way back up the beach. Noel noted the way her body tilted to one side, a graceless cocktail of exhaustion, sand, and her sudden unbalanced weight throwing her equilibrium out of whack. Ryce made very little effort to hide her irritation as she grumbled, "…also havin' trouble walkin'. Who the hell knew your arm helped with THAT?"

Noel walked back a bit to stand beside her, offering his own arm in support. "I saw some beef stew in the kitchen," he told her, not addressing her venting complaints, "Kinda hungry too, we'll stop for it."

"…wonder if that hamburger meats still there…"

The words sparked something. The taste of meat. Of blood. Of his own tongue as his molars _shredded it and choked gluttonously on it, screaming mutely in the gl_—"Ryce."

His breath was ragged and labored. His palms were clammy. He thought there was a cold sweat on his forehead, but he didn't want to check. The angel had stopped too, looking at him. For whatever reason, his condition was not odd to her, a faraway look in her eyes.

"…there's something wrong in you, Ryce," Noel managed.

The girl tilted her head towards him, her remaining arm moving to hug herself as best she could, shivering despite the warm winds. It was a remarkably child-like pose, even with the jarring image of her knotted sleeve hanging empty at her side, and instantly made Noel regret his words. For a moment, he attempted to pull out some sort of explanation of what he had just said, to show, beyond 'Office Door,' what he meant. He couldn't. Looking at her eyes, he also knew he didn't have to.

"…I know. But," her tone was soft – a timid echo of a perhaps not-so-dead Ali – and genuine even in its uncertainty, "…B-But I think m'better, _now_."

Noel nodded dryly, aware of the overwhelming significance of the short words they had just exchanged, but not understanding it.

"Good," he whispered, and meant it.

Ryce smiled subtly for him. She meant it too.

"I'll…uh," Noel started, wanting at distraction from this topic, "I'll ask someone to clean up the ashes. Or maybe just leave it for the sea to take care of," he sighed, leading her inside while her smile widened. "You don't have to worry about it."

It was then he realized she was not necessarily smiling at him.

"Thanks, Noel."

The male voice was peaceful and content, conveying that same heaviness that came from things that were far more significant that they appeared at face-value.

Savior nodded to Metatron. He didn't know how long the boy had been waiting for them inside, but his gratitude was for far more than just the ash. Ryce hadn't waited for Noel to release her, she just stumbled forward towards the waiting demi-demon, fastening onto his sleeve with a small stumble

As soon as she reached him, the lost boy's fingers gently tilted her slacking shoulder upward, evening her wobbliness. "Just needs practice," he smiled.

"It's a bloody arm," Ryce growled even as she leaned her weight into Adam's, "Why m'walkin' like someone with head trauma?"

"That would be the head trauma induced from being smacked repeatedly on the ground," Metatron nodded.

"…Oh. Yea," Ryce murmured. She began to move along the halls with him, and added, "Thanks again, Noel."

She didn't look back though, eyes casted down and always distant. Metatron knew this look very well, he had seen it often enough before. It was her 'thinking' look. More often than not it didn't lead to good things. Noel was less familiar, but he was starting to recognize it. "Don't lose yourself in your own head, Ryce," he whispered after her.

He went without one of her typically quick, witty replies.

* * *

Adam walked next to her in silence, their shoulders rubbing gently, unquestioningly. If anything she tucked closer into his side as they rounded a corner. All the while her remaining hand stayed gripped tightly to his sleeve. Almost as if she were afraid of what would happen if she let go.

"…I don't wanna go back to the med-bay, Adam," she whispered after a few moments. "Not right now, at least," she glanced up to him hopefully, resigned to her eventual return.

Metatron glanced back, and gently cupped the top of her head, "I hear someone fiendishly dumped some pillows and a nice floor mattress on the roof. No doubt as part of a feather-focused villainous plot."

A small, tired smile met his too-casual tone, "Sounds like a plan…the sun will do me some good…nothin' says 'Don't look at my mutilated body' like a healthy bronze glow."

"The least existence could do for you is get you a nice, orange sun to fry the outer layer of your skin with," Metatron mused. "Seems like one of those universe-saving perks you don't hear about."

"Aye, a healthy serving o' melanoma. Par for the course."

It was with this lazy back-and-forth that they found themselves on the roof, where everything Metatron had promised waited. Everything and more, Ryce noted the little table of smoothies, lemonades, and soft drinks. And though Ryce was no longer hungry, liquids seemed rather appealing after her venture on the beach. She smiled softly, now understanding why he hadn't been outside to witness her exchange with Noel sooner.

"Mmmm…skin cancer," she murmured limping over to and then stretching languishingly out on the mattress.

Adam flopped next to her, picking up an icy beverage and sipping it quietly, observing the girl relax and shed all masks.

"…How's everyone in the med bay doin'?" she asked, propping herself carefully on her remaining elbow.

"They are still alive. All of them," Metatron replied. "Not worrying about them for a few seconds won't make them disappear, you know. You've done enough. Relax."

"M'relaxed," she said, and there was no missing the defensive edge. With a small grunt of effort, she sat, and reached for of the smoothies.

Or she would have, had the limb still been there. It took her half a moment to realize what she was doing and pull back, a light pinkening blooming on her cheeks. She wondered if Adam had noticed the slip, but she resisted to urge to glance, instead reaching for the drink with her other hand. If he did notice, he didn't comment on it, simply handing her the drink and clicking it against his own, in a sort of toast.

"…Thank you," she said stiffly.

"Have you wondered how different your life's gonna be now?"

Ryce paused mid-sip, almost thrown by the sudden question. "…M'tryin' not to but thank you for bein' blunt."

"I figured everyone else was pretending not to notice, but clearly you do and ignoring how it affects you is not doing you any favors any more than it's very insensitive."

"S'jus' an arm…I have another," she shrugged, face twisting up at the pain it caused in her bandaged shoulder. She quickly covered it with a sip of her drink, "You're makin' a bigger deal out of it than needed."

"It's an arm," Adam mirrored simply.

"No more, no less," he glanced down between them: His hand was there, in the place her hand would have been were it still here, holding one another. "It's not the end of the world…but I'll still never get to hold it again."

"Oh I weep for your loss," Ryce snapped before she could stop herself.

Metatron smiled sadly, his hands moving through the motions of caressing an invisible hand with his thumb, closing his eyes.

"…It's the little things. They make me happy."

For a moment, she just sat there eyes narrowed and angry before her face fell a bit, "…sorry…m'jus' tired."

He reached over and hugged her close, "I'm sorry, too."

Her form tensed under his grasp, something he had not felt her do in years when it came to any touch, let alone his. Fortunately, she did not go as far as to pull away. If anything she seemed to be forcing herself to let go of the sudden steel like tension that was running rampant through her body.

"S'fine…M'fine. Alive," she nodded, her tone clearly brushing his concern off. Her eyes dropped, "I survived."

"I'm glad you did," he whispered, leaning back to lock eyes with her, "didn't mean anything against it. I'm happy you figured it out. I'm happy you're here; alive…I guess once the fires die down, and victory is assured, what's left is for to mourn their loss. And here we are."

He nuzzled her gently, trying to ease her statuesque touch. Trying to coax back into her flesh the softness he knew it to be capable of.

"Mournin'."

She sat there with unreadable eyes and focused only on her drink. She had all but spat the word out, as if she didn't like the taste of it as it rolled off her tongue. When she found her voice again it was a quiet one, "…I have no right, and nothin', to mourn," her mismatched eyes sparked. "Everyone is here…everyone is whole…we survived. So m'happy."

"That just means they don't have as much to mourn," he whispered quietly.

She didn't break their gaze, "Implyin' someone else does? I'll say it again Adam: M'happy."

"Sure," Metatron nodded easily, looking towards the sky. "But what about me?"

"…What _about _you?" Ryce asked, frowning in confusion.

"I love you," he responded simply, overlooking how still she went at the words. "And…I loved you whole. And you're not, anymore. That's something to mourn. Everyone else, out of this whole ordeal, they lost no one. They lost nothing they can't get back. But you…" Metatron looked back to Ryce, and his smile was dim. It was a face only she saw, occasionally. When thinking of Dante. Of the War. And now, of her loss. Something ached in her chest at realizing she had added something to that short list. "All of the loss was yours. You may yet lose more…" he sighed. "Of course I mourn. I mourn for you, Ryce."

"It s'flesh," she insisted, angry now. Her eyes stung, too, because they were stupid. "Flesh heals. I'll start walkin' normally again…I'll adapt. S'what you do."

"Of course you will," he replied gently, the tired weight of his smile pressing on Ryce's chest, rocking against that ache in painful waves. But he quieted, and relaxed his back against the mattress, watching the clouds float along slowly.

"…I have no right to do anythin' else," she said after several seconds of unbearable silence. "In the grand scheme of things…it really seems selfish to let myself go to pieces about this," she winced at the choice of words, "Pieces…funny…hahah."

Metatron watched the sky. Wordlessly, his hand moved to rest on her back, and he closed his eyes.

"…I made it through, Adam," she continued.

The air hung heavy between them, something thick and unsaid dangled.

Metatron let out a slow, long breath, waiting.

The minutes were ticking by, agonizingly slow, and suddenly she couldn't take that warmth in her back anymore.

"_Stop_," she snapped, shrugging his hand away. "Sorry, but, stop it," her hand gripped painfully tight on her cup, dents forming in the plastic, knuckles bleaching white. Smoothie dribbled from the incisions, running down her fingers like blood a few shades too pink.

The outburst only made Adam open his eyes, as if coming out of a deep sleep. He looked at her face, and Ryce knew he saw the tension in her brow and thinness of her lips immediately. He saw the glassy pits forming in her eyes…cornered eyes.

"…m'fine."

He was her closest friend, but all he did was watch.

In the end, he might as well have been screaming.

"Goddamn it Adam, I said I was _fine!_" she snapped. In an instant, her fingers tore through the cup, its contents bursting from her fingers like rotten grapes. She paid the thought no mind. "It s'an arm! It's nothin'! After everythin' that s'happened, s'jus' a god damned arm!"

Still, Adam would just watch her. He wouldn't budge. It incensed her.

"_They_ lost EVERYTHIN'…_they_ paid everythin'! So I don't get to sit here…I don't get to mourn this, Adam!" Her voice began to crack painfully with every word, and suddenly, she was so tired. So tired. Suddenly she wanted her par—_Morgan and Eddie_ there, to hold her. "S'selfish….I can't do that to them."

And then, Adam, her near-forgotten lone audience, he finally spoke.

"Why? Wouldn't they want you to? Wouldn't they tell you you've earned it?" at some point, he had sat up, and was prying her clenched hand open. He began cleaning it with his vest. "Wouldn't they tell you, you can finally stop now? That you won?"

"_**WHAT DID I WIN!?**_" her voice reached a shrill hysterical shriek, and she ripped her hand from his, ignoring how her nails sliced him in their bid for freedom.

Adam didn't give an answer, which suited her fine: She didn't want one.

"The truth!? S'that it, Met?" She demanded. Her eyes were wide and fever-bright behind her glasses, "That _none_ of it really mattered? That ev'rythin' they said about me was _TRUE_?"

Her mouth hung open, bobbling uselessly without any noise.

When her friend embraced her, when his arms wrapped around her shaking body and her face was buried in his chest, noise came – whether she wished it to or not, spilling out of her in a painful, raw flood. A cracking, heart-wrenched sob that rocked her entire face, dissolving the anger.

"S'…s'not fair…oh god, Adam s'not FAIR. I won. I won! Why doesn't it matter…W-Why does it hurt still…why does it _always _hurt…?"

"Because you still lost," Metatron breathed into her hair. "No true winner is ever fully happy, hun…not when they remember the sacrifices. Being happy at the face of what they lost would make them guilty."

"They weren't mine, not my sacrifices," she sobbed, gripping at her hair as she curled pathetically unto him, "…h-he took ev'rythin'… I won…and he s-still took evr'ythin'. My arm…my mom…Morgan and Eddie and R-Robbie…S'not fair…"

She grappled onto his shirt, desperately seeking something to hold onto as her body was racked by sobs, each one threatening to shatter her into a thousand pieces.

"I know s'selfish. But I m-miss them so much, Adam. I-I want it back…Adam…p-please…why can't I have it back…"

Somehow, Adam managed to keep her contained through her breakdown. She didn't fall apart. Didn't shatter. Not one piece.

Adam kept her together.

"…for as long as I've known you," he began in a very low voice, as if cautious about spooking her, "you've been a selfless, driven force of nature. You've taken on it all and withstood the burden with no complaint," his hand covered hers and squeezed, grounding her. "…stop. Now, you can stop…and there's nothing wrong with it. It's time to mourn."

Ryce didn't bother trying to form words beyond that, sobbing uncontrollably into his shirt instead, pouring out in hitched gasps and wails that vomited out the toxin. It tore at her.

But, somehow, in a good way.

"M-My _arm_," she bubbled suddenly, as if just noticing. "It…Adam, s'gon—my arm's…It s'_my arm, _and _s'gone…_Adam," she sniffed loudly, "Adam, ev'rythin's…jus' gone. W-What m'goin' to do now?"

"…Whole lifetimes of traveling under my hat," Met says sadly, "and the answer is still no less stupidly simple."

The tiny bird he held in his arms hiccupped miserably. She waited.

"You cry, hun. You cry until you're numb. And then you _run_. To the next big thing. To healing. To what can make you happy again: It's the little things, Ryce. They make you happy."

Two years – perhaps a full lifetime – of grief finally broke past the damaged dams that had kept them at bay. She mourned for a mother shed never known…a family she so desperately tried to hold on to…part of her own broken crippled person…

She had won.

To the victor go the spoils.

So she clung. She held tight, and she cried out the poisons victory left inside her.

For several eternities, she cried. And then, finally, she slumped against him, tired of it, numb to everything, and unsure of what came next.

"You'll be whole again," Adam's voice promised her. "In a brand new way."

"…M'sorry…" Ryce whispered back, her voice blank and drained as she herself felt. Her finger traced the angry-red lines on Adam's hand. "…M'sorry, I-I cut yo-"

"Shhhhh…" he cut her off, kissing her temple. His voice was fond and loving, even as he rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Silly girl."

Ryce didn't answer. She melted against him, staring dully at their conjoined hands.

Some yards away, there was the light click of a door easing closed.

Nigel left them to their mourning and the poor comforts that could be afforded to it. He felt voyeuristic, but he would deal with that guilt privately. He would bring her back to the med-bay later.

For now, he had someone to talk to.

* * *

The week had gone by, bringing with it a much needed lull for the city and its protectors. Such peace was not all that uncommon when the area found itself recovering from one of its infamous near cataclysmic events. No one complained or voiced any sort of boredom. There was too much recovering to do, too much healing and quiet. It had only been yesterday that the last of their number had left the med-bay for his room. Even with the tender movements, there was a clear relief that Robert Candide walked out of Nigel's base of his own volition.

No one's relief was clearer than the young woman currently fast asleep in her bed. The room around her no longer had the same unlived-in and barren look to it. Though still largely undecorated there was signs of life outside of herself. A television flashed images at the sleeping girl, its sound muted. Boxes containing unpacked and unassembled furniture rested in the places their contents would later occupy. An open closet showed an array of clothing, many with tags still attached. The window ledge covered in a soft plush red cushion was perfect for a small enough person to settle into. Standing in stark contrast to the organized beginnings of a bedroom, were stacks of books toppling over in the corner, near the window seat, next to her bed. Their pages containing plots, references, histories…instead of a cold sterile list of handwritten names. Several of those books also lay about the duvet on Ryce's bed, a hard-covered white novel bearing the image of a tall man in a dark duster and hat standing amongst a foggy graveyard lay under splayed pale fingers. She'd fallen asleep reading.

It was…so normal.

The peace of the scene was rendered by a mobile phone lighting up on her pillow and beginning to play at what was, by anyone's opinion, an impossibly loud volume. Ryce groaned, trying to shift clumsily away from the device mere inches from her head. It was amazing how even a simple action such as this was made difficult by the lacking of her left arm. Eventually she gave up in her endeavor and reached for the cell. A few quick and sloppy mashing of the buttons and a flick of her wrist opened it to reveal a text message.

_Meet for coffee? :)_

Meet for coffee. Her sleep-addled mind managed to pick up her often used "polite" euphemism for "midday booty call." And they said she wasn't picking up any tactful social graces. Eyes narrowing blearily, she grumbled and answered.

_No sexytime 2day bart sleepin mayB 2moro_

Satisfied, she settled back into the pillow, eyes drifting shut at once. Not even a minute passed before the phone was screaming out again. With a snarl, she ripped it back up.

…_who the hell is Bart?_

Ryce paused, letting the phone drop from her fingers to straighten her lopsided glasses. The number…she knew this number. Fifteenth street library…bathroom…or had it been a closet…damn it, she remembered green eyes and dirty blond hair…Z…it began with a Z…YES.

_No one Zack…closet was fun. I said nothin srs tho._

Ryce sighed in relief and settled back dow—More alert sounds. Evil alert sounds.

…_How the hell do you know my brother?_

She stared for a second, just enough time for another to come in.

_Y is Drew bitching me?_

Ryce stared quietly and wide eyed at the screen for a moment before burying her face into the mattress ignoring the pain of her glasses digging into her nose. Zack and Drew. Twins. Now she remembered. Drew a closet on Monday and his slacker twin brother in the bathroom when he didn't show up Tuesday. The phone lit and let out a single note of its ring tone when her tail lashed out from under the covers and left the device a crackling silent pin cushion.

"English majors are clingy, thirteen-year-old girls," she growled.

All this was behind her though. Maybe she would need to drag herself out into the city to get a new phone but that was okay. Her room was cool, dark and mercifully quiet again. It made her eyelids feel pleasantly heavy. Perhaps she could eke out a few more hours before her alarm went off, signaling her need to get up and get to work.

No way was a missing limb going to stop her from doing her job. No way. Okay, maybe her current state resulted in a few clumsy knock overs and mishaps even as she cleaned, and she guessed that the scrambled eggs she served did have just a few eggshells in them…no one ever said anything though. Ryce frowned and curled deeper into her pillow. That understanding actually made her feel worse than the difficulties themselves.

But none of that mattered, what mattered were those precious stolen hours of sleep. When he eyes closed shut completely, she had a fleeting, bemused thought. Why in god's name were those twins even awake at this ungodly hour, much less prodding her into wakeful coffee and the trysts that followed? A paper thin flash of blue beneath her eyelashes was all she could manage.

And her alarm flashed 11:00 AM back at her.

"CRAP!" Ryce yelped, bolting from the bed and jerking towards her window. Her window whose curtains had been drawn tightly shut, barring the waking sun from entry. With a strangled sound, she scrambled her way out of the tangle of her bed sheets, toppling to her floor in a heap. The snarls that followed were nothing even close to English, lashing out to grapple unto the bed for balance and leverage as she pulled herself up from the floor.

"Crap crap crap!"

Glasses askew, hair wild, the half-angel nearly tripped over her book piles as she left the room. It was a mere afterthought that she grabbed the dark pair of pants laying on top a basket of unfolded laundry. Dashing along the hall clad in only a sleep tank and a pair of boy shorts, she could recall Tim mentioning something about her having to wear pants in them. More clearly, she recalled how she was supposed to have been up nearly five hours ago.

It was by these thoughts that Alaryce discovered just how difficult it was to pull on pants on the run. Pants discovered to not be yours. One handed.

She only fell on her face twice, which was honestly one of those small victories that truly got her through the day.

By the time she reached the kitchen in one (relative) piece, she was attempting to hold up the dark pants and straighten her hair and glasses at the same time. Her mind ran through the ungodly list that she could barely recall the extent of: Breakfast was out. She could just do a big lunch as means of apology. With that going she could probably get a load of laundry going and mop one of the halls down. Maybe. Possibly?

Ryce sighed in defeat, stumbling over the too-long, Metatron-pants into the dark kitchen. Bracing her hip against the wall kept them up, and her lone hand pawed at the wall for the lights, watching them flare on with disinterest.

"SURPRISE!"

"_EEP!"_

Graceful as always, Ryce tripped herself over behind a counter (or, if you believed her inner monologue, dove with great tactical forethought). Her attackers were saying something else, but with her heart hammering in her ears, she had no idea what that was. All that she could hope for, as frightened spines launched randomly, was that one struck home.

"…See? This is why I said a surprise was a terrible idea," a familiar voice sighed.

"_You're_ a terrible idea."

"That doesn't make sense, Rob."

"_You_ don't make sense Rob."

A pair of wide, scared eyes peeked cautiously from their improvised shelter, reacting to the blond's name. What she was expecting was, well, not this. The full occupants of the tower were standing across, apparently having been laying wait for her. Her spines were, thank Alex, embedded in the wall behind them, and not in any of their various vital organs. She had been blessed with horrible aim her entire life and only now did she truly appreciate it.

"Ryce?" Starfire asked gently, tilting her head.

"…uh…Met's pants fell off…"

"We can wait for you to put them back on if you wish," the princess smiled, while several others mouthed what Ryce has just said in bemusement.

There were a few seconds of fidgeting noise behind the counter, before Ryce pulled herself back into view, looking every bit as confused as they had ever seen her. Eventually her eyes were drawn to something in Sophie's hands. A cake.

A chocolate angel food cake.

With…strawberries.

"Happy Birthday, Ryce," she said, her tone a great deal softer than the original shouted greeting. The others were echoing the well-wishes now, but all she could manage to do was stare at that cake.

Birthday.

She…didn't celebrate her birthday.

"Where…how did you guys…" she sputtered, before finally settling on, "Who told you?"

"Their quest for such knowledge was a long and arduous one," a new voice spoke behind her, "One filled with dangers, piracy, the high seas, a distinct lack of Amish communities, and eldritch beauties and horrors beyond the pale."

Ryce craned her neck back to see Metatron idling behind her.

He smiles for her, "Or I might have told them. Also you took my pants. I tried to put on yours…sadly, my ass doesn't look nearly as entertaining in them."

"What did I say about wearing PANTS when you are not in your bedrooms," Tim grumbled as the demi-demon strolled into the gathered crowd of metas clad in his typical top, half jacket, and his not-so-typical boxers covered in daleks.

"I wouldn't know," the half-naked demon confessed, making a beeline for the table. Only then did Ryce notice that it was filled to the brim with hors d'oeuvres and bulky boxes. The tiny sandwiches looked especially good as Adam plucked one after another in his mouth. "I'm usually not here during those meetings where you go over guidelines, remember?"

"…Ah," Robin frowned, momentarily stumped. "And here I thought I wouldn't need to spell certain things out, silly me – ok, Adam, you're technically correct, so listen up –"

"What are those boxes?" Ryce interrupted, pulling away from Gar's hug: While Tim was going over his power-play circus, the rest of the Titans had simply chosen to ignore it and greet the birthday girl, until her curiosity and niggling familiarity got the best of her.

"Gifts," Robert replied bemusedly, as if it were the obvious thing. "For you. It's another birthday thing."

The tiny angel looked at him for the longest time, with the queerest expression. "…Yeah. I guess t'is."

"Come on," Terra grinned, plucking sandwiches on both of their mouths. "It's a party. Pseudo-flirt on your own time."

Ryce had to laugh at Rob's expression.

* * *

"Why do I have to open this one first?" Ryce frowned at the bulky, fluorescent package before her. "By myself? Are we taping it and mailing it over to America's Funniest Home Videos? 'Cause if so, I want royalties on my awkward fumblin's."

She was met with the blank and mildly horrified stares from the Titans, all sitting around the table to watch her.

"…I want to meet Bob Saget," she elaborated. "I could finally ask him why he sounds so different than Ted in How I Met Your Mother – shouldn't his testicles have long ago dropped? What accounts for the vocal change?"

Adam, ever the target of her questions, nodded with a thoughtful smile. "Food for thought, indeed. Real deep stuff."

"…Um, no, no taping," Cyborg chose to answer when it was obvious the rest deferred to him for it. "We just thought this one would make the rest easier," he smiled weakly at her confusion. "This one is more like from all of us than from me, but…here, I'll help."

"No, wait," Ryce stopped him, and slowly reached out for the knife she had been using for the sandwiches. There was a sweet sort of expression in her face, "I can do it."

The Titans held their breath, their snacks forgotten, as the girl clumsily cut away at the wraps, and revealing the pure white box underneath. Several times, one or another started to make a move to help her when she found herself stuck, but she always waved them back and continued.

It was an oddly tense scene once she lifted the cover, revealing…

"Thanks for making this as uncomfortable to watch as possible," Tara broke in, going back to her sandwich. An uneasy string of chuckles followed.

But none from Ryce: She simply stared at the cybernetic arm, so much like Cyborg's, that lied in the box before her.

"I don't understand," she whispered.

More silence.

"It's not a real arm, and it doesn't begin to compare," Cyborg explained, moving to stand beside her, "…I should know that more than anyone. But…It helps. And you need something. So I took some of my blueprints, and…"

He trailed off, searching in the girl's expression. She had gone so still, so quiet. It was becoming all too clear to Victor that this was too soon. This had been a big mistake.

"You don't have to us—"

"I want to."

Ryce had turned to him, watching him with eyes that were somehow sad, but grateful. He took note of the way she subconsciously pulled the box closer to her body, "Thank you, Victor," her eyes flicked to the rest, watching her back in palpable relief. "Everyone."

"Anytime," Victor Stone breathed.

"How do I…?" Ryce waved her arm at the mechanical appendage. "Will it hurt? Can't imagine that'll spice up the party."

"No – it's not exactly like mine," Cyborg said, picking up the arm, "may I?"

The girl slowly nodded, the same curious expression in her face as an eternity ago, when he worked on the sub. The Titans huddled around them, curious as well.

"I had Nigel"—the blacktranian perked up at his name—"place a…think of it as a chip, right under your skin, sending wireless signals to the arm, directed by your brain. That's how you'll give it orders, so long as it's within range, meaning 'on your arm'.

"The biggest problem was battery life: Your body heat is nowhere near enough to charge it, and you don't have an internal power source, unlike me," Cyborg explained, tapping his chest as he placed the arm against her stump. Ryce was suddenly aware of the suction as the limb attached itself against her. It was surprisingly cold, and there was no sensation aside from a sudden, dull weight where her arm used to be. She wondered if that was how Victor always felt. "So what I did was make it so that you could take it off, and plug it to an external charger every night, while you slept, and then put it back on in the morning."

"Like a cellphone," Ryce said, with a sudden smile.

Victor looked up from his work, and smiled back. "Yes. Of course, that made it impractical for it to be painful every time you put it on, hence the chip – and as a result, a weaker grip on your organic parts. But the suction more than compensates for that, I think," as he spoke, the arm drummed gently, and the circuits sparked with soft life. "Try it out."

Nodding. Ryce focused on her new prosthetic and concentrated.

The fingers twitched.

Someone gasped.

Ryce winced and fought off the blush when she realized it had been her. But no one commented on it, as she thought they would, no one so much as flinched in reaction. They waited on her with baited breath. So she closed her eyes, letting go her held breath in one low exhale, and tried again. And she made a fist.

Though she hadn't been sure what to expect, she knew well of people that went through arduous physical therapy over the course of several months in order to fully recover, after something as 'simple' as a bullet wound. How hard would it be to get full motion out of an arm you had to replace?

As it turned out, surprisingly easy. The prosthetic twitched oddly at moments, but it followed her instructions easily, as if she had been using it all her life.

"…It's like riding a bike," Cyborg said gently, picking up on her expression, "and then getting a new…cold one. You can still ride it, you never forget how."

Ryce gave a consenting grunt, her eyes trailing the arm as it flexed back and forth, as the fingers opened and closed. Aside from the lack of sensation, she could see how this was a much more convenient way to deal with a crippling injury.

Privately, she noted how little that mattered to her. Or to Victor, for that matter.

"Any questions?" he was asking.

Many, actually. But no, none that should be voiced.

"…Do I get a cannon?" she asked instead, a wide grin curling across her face.

"Of course not," Robin chuckled…

"Kinda, actually," Victor said at the exact same time.

…and then Robin was choking, "WHAT?!"

"**BEST GIFT EVER!**" Ryce shrieked over her leader. Even the most optimistic of the Titans could only stare in abject horror as she busied herself tinkering with her new arm in hopes of an explosion.

"Cyborg, this really won't help your war terrorist standing with the Geneva Convention," Savior breathed, surprising himself with how calm he was.

"Oh, relax, guys," Cyborg rolled his eyes, "Tim, if you can stop frothing at the mouth long enough for me to explain? I put a _lot _of safety measures to ensu—"

He was interrupted by the sudden _HUMMMM! _of Ryce's mechanical palm. It was different from Cyborg's cannon in that the arm didn't shift, but rather had a hole opened up in it, bubbling with ominous white light. Apparently finding this hilarious, Adam broke into a fit of chuckles.

"Oh it s'thought-operated," Ryce said in child-like glee, not remotely concerned. "M'like Robert Downey Jr.!"

"Good God, she's _armed!_" Beastboy yelped, ducking under the table.

"Everyone hide behind Met, she won't shoot him!" Sophie cried out in a sudden burst of savvy.

Interestingly, most Titans were in the middle of doing just that when Cyborg yelled, "VOICE COMMAND OVERRIDE! Passcode: Angry British Chihuahua!"

At once, the hole closed up, and the light died with a high-pitched whine.

"Ryce, you're seriously not filling me with confidence here," Cyborg breathed as his friends came out of their hiding place in tentative hopefulness.

The angel just stared at him in the same horror often displayed for her. "…_That s'the_ passcode?!"

"Everyone burn those words to memory," Rob said earnestly, taking his seat again.

"NO! _No one _burn those words to memory!" Ryce snapped back.

The black man rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Well, you wouldn't have found out if you weren't so trigger-happy," he pointedly ignored how that didn't make it better, "but, yeah, that's one of the safety measures I was mentioning. See? _Not_ a war terrorist."

His leader didn't look remotely amused, so Cyborg quickly continued: "Ok, before any more mishaps, I'm just going to lay it out"—here, his expression turned serious—"If Ryce is going to live with us, she's going to get in a lot of trouble eventually, so she needs an ace in the hole, if only to get away."

Robin frowned, and the fact he didn't counter the argument was probably a good sign.

Only one person noticed how Ryce shifted quietly at the words.

"However, it should be used responsibly, and only as a _last resort_," Cyborg emphasized, looking to the girl, who had the grace to wince. "This is especially important because of that battery thing I mentioned earlier: The arm has a battery power that lasts about 24 hours _without_ the use of the blaster. When you use it, _all_ of that power is redirected to your _one shot_, and as soon as you fire, the arm goes dead until you charge it again."

This time it was Ryce who frowned, looking at the arm.

"It'd still make a rather effective metal bludgeon," Adam pointed out.

Ryce smiled at him. "There _is _that."

Cyborg shrugged haplessly, "Sorry about that. The battery life was the biggest challenge, and I'll try to look for ways to extend it, but it was the best I could do for now. Just be responsible, only use it when you _absolutely _have to," and then he glanced at the others. "On the plus side, those of you who were worried Ryce would chase you around shooting at you can now breathe easy, assuming you can get over the guilt of not trusting our beloved maid's maturity."

"I am entirely unapologetic about that," Terra replied shamelessly. She even ignored when Met hit her with a bread roll. Though she did scream and duck when he threw a flaming one.

Ryce watched this play out and…utterly failed to react.

"…no, seriously, _that s'really the passcode?_" Ryce chose to ask Cyborg again.

"Oh get over it, and you're welcome," Cyborg grinned, catching the amused glint – behind all the annoyance – in Ryce's eyes.

There were chuckles around the table, and another round of easy mingling and snacking as Ryce's new reality settled in her mind. Once again she found herself trying to get used to having two arms after having tried to get used to having one. Nothing was ever simple, she thought with a silent laugh.

"I suppose now it's painfully obvious why we wanted you to open that gift first," Scalpel said.

"Aye," Ryce smiled, eyeing the other gifts that would now be much easier to handle. "But after this…m'pretty sure you've guys filled the gift quota, you didn't need to get me anythin' else."

"The arm _is _from all of us, sweetie," Sophie replied in her gentle manner, "but it was mostly Victor and Nigel's idea. The other gifts aren't as impressive, they won't take as much explaining…but we wanted to get you more."

"…They'll be perfect," Ryce announced softly.

"Let's test that, shall we?" Savior asked, plucking a rectangular, flat box from the pile and tossing it at her, "This one first."

Ryce laughed, reaching for it. "Eager to show off what you g—?"

_CRUNCH!_

The angel froze, staring at the crushed box beneath her metal fingers. She had only meant to grab it gently…

"Not as such, no," Savior replied, unsurprised. "Just that you just now got a robot arm, and you probably didn't realize how strong a grip it had. I don't know if the others got you fragile things, but if they did, it'd be a waste if you were to crush them, not knowing your own strength."

"…Bollocks," Ryce said in realization, staring at the crumpled box in her hand. "So, does this…?"

"Yes, it'll be fine," Savior nodded. "Go ahead and open it. Try to mind the strength while you do. Better start getting used to it."

"Yes, _Yoda_," Ryce rolled her eyes.

But she was smiling as she opened the box.

Inside it, was her jacket.

But it was not in tatters. It was not barely held together by caked blood and mud, with the repugnant stench of her brother-thing's ichor clinging to it, and with the drench of seawater, nor was the black leather faded after one use. The White Call had devoured that jacket. This was whole, new, and comfortable against her touch. The zippers on the back ready for her wings. Her exact, perfect size.

The T on the shoulders shone proudly.

Ryce looked to Noel, with carefully dry eyes, and an almost impossible to hear sniff. Totally impossible.

Under the table, she felt Adam take her good hand.

"I know how important it is," Noel shrugged, his fingers trailing along his own T in his jacket.

Ryce nodded, already slipping it on and careful not to meet eyes with anyone as she did.

"…Thank you."

* * *

"Papers?" Ryce blinked at her latest 'gift'.

"…boooooo!" The Titans chorused at once, throwing bread rolls at Robin, who tolerantly dodged them. Even the flaming ones.

"Cheap gift!" Terra hollered at him, "I got her designer jeans with tail holes! Which I stabbed in myself."

Ryce tried not to giggle at how proud the other blonde seemed to be of that.

"Couldn't even spring for socks!" Rob said. He had gotten her an empty scrapbook. For new memories. Something in her yearned to fill it out while she could.

Robin just kept chuckling, and then looked at Ryce. He nodded for her to read the papers, and she did.

"Authorized…full security clearance…handprint registered…" she muttered the odd words. "…Collins, N…Drake, T…names of people I don't care about…alien names I _can't _pronounce… …Gallagher, A."

Ryce looked up to Robin. "This is a list of people recognized by the handprint scanner to have full access to the Tower."

"…_Really?_" Beastboy chuckled. "You got her something _everyone_ can use?"

"Not for long!" Cyborg protested, only to receive blank stares. "…I _will _fix that handprint scanner someday, you know."

"You will surely prevail, friend Victor," Starfire patted his arm patronizingly.

Tim smirked at his team's antics before speaking to Ryce, "They're right, everyone can use it," he nods. "But that's faulty programming. In reality, only the people in that list should be able to have access. A limited amount. In the world with the door with the broken lock, you're actually one of the few with a key. It doesn't seem m—"

But apparently, it seemed a lot, as Ryce quickly enveloped Tim in a tight hug, the kind she had never given to him before.

"…A-Air," Robin croaked, and Ryce eased on the embrace enough for him to chuckle. "…heh. Weird nostalgia in that," he hugged her back tentatively. "…This is your home, Ryce. That paper is physical proof."

The girl was shaking in his arms. Tim thought it kinder to not acknowledge that.

"I, for one, have faith that Victor really _will_ fix that scanner one day. And when he does, our home will only open to us."

There was a long pause as the girl continued hugging.

It was so much. It was all too much.

Raven had gotten her a book, an excellent, intriguing book she hadn't had the heart to tell her she had already read thrice. Nigel had gotten her a swimsuit, which from anyone else would have been a weird gift, but from him was a congratulations on overcoming her phobia. Sophie's fedora lied comfortably atop her head, probably clashing with her jacket, but she didn't care.

They were all so wonderful.

"…Thank you, Tim," Ryce whispered, pulling away finally, after she decided it was safe enough to.

Tim smiled at her, no distrust in his expression, not today, no questioning the wetness of her eyes. "Welcome to the family."

* * *

"This s'a model of a motorcycle," Ryce stated incredulously. Garfield's gift was admittedly really cool looking, but at the same time she wondered about the hidden significance of it. All of the other gifts seemed to have had some measure of that.

"Yeah, see…" Beastboy winced at what he obviously thought was a poor gift. "I was actually going to get you an _actual _motorcycle."

"…I'm sorry, did you just say you were going to give a motorcycle to the one-armed girl?" Savior clarified.

"Oh we all knew Cy would get the arm ready," Beastboy dismissed, noting how Ryce now seemed extremely interested in what he had to say. "Here's the thing. I actually _got _the bike. I got a job at this horrible-on-the-surface meat place to get it and everything!"

"Horrible-on-the-surface…?" Ryce echoed to Adam.

"Perhaps it was a sentient meat place with a _great _personality," Met shrugged. "You know, like Wallaby."

"The kangaroo's dead, Adam, you're goin' to have to get over that," Ryce replied, not unkindly.

"I suppose he's rapping in kangaroo-heaven."

"Actually, Met's _arguably _right," Beastboy continued his tale, choosing to ignore the kangaroo stuff. "Point being, I worked hard and got the bike, and I was all set to give it to you, but then, I had to sacrifice it in order to stop an evil, sentient block of alien-tofu from somehow taking over the world by kidnapping our cows with its army of middle-aged, overweight, middle-management-worker clones."

Ryce stared at the green man.

"It happened while you and the others were recovering from D'xias' attack," he clarified.

Ryce opened her mouth to say something, and apparently couldn't figure out what, because she closed it a second later, looking truly stumped for once.

"He's not making any of that up, by the way," Cyborg said. "Really did happen. It was a weird day. I got to shout 'moo-yah.'"

Finally, the angel just pouted grumpily, "See, this s'what I've always been sayin': Tofu's evil and you need to start eatin' meat…fuckin' tofu…"

"You can't hold _all _tofu responsible for the actions of one bad, alien apple," Beastboy chuckled. "I'm sorry the Vespa got wrecked, but I think we c—"

"Wait!" Ryce cut him off, blinking. "Wait, wait. _Vespa?_ It s'not a Harley, like the model?" she asked, holding up the miniature Harley.

"Nah, it was a Vespa," Beastboy confirmed, "I couldn't find a model of one, so I just bought this one."

"…Oh," Ryce said slowly. "Oh…That s'ok, then. No worries."

"You're not disappointed anymore?" Beastboy asked in confusion.

"Nah, I like the model," the girl smiled at him. "'Sides, Vespa are for dorks."

"What? No, Vespa are cool!" Beastboy laughed. It slowly trailed off when no one joined him. "…Vespa…_are_ cool, right?" he asked his girlfriend.

"…I'm sure they can be, hon," Terra said dutifully.

"Wait, are you gu—"

"SO, Kory, what did you get Ryce?" Sophie asked loudly. Terra shot her a grateful look. "I didn't see any more boxes in there."

"Ah!" Starfire gasped. "The cake!"

"The…cake?" Ryce blinked, glancing to the awaiting chocolate angel food cake. It _did _look amazing. If not painfully familiar.

"Not _that _cake!" Star giggled, diving into the halls and out of sight.

It was around then that a feeling of horrible dread started sinking in the Titans' stomachs.

"…no," Raven said, paler than usual.

Noel swallowed "…Well, noon already? It's getting late, perhaps it's time to turn in for the n—"

"FRIENDS!" Kory exclaimed, rushing back into the room with a large platter.

"Damn!" Noel cursed under his breath. "She's gotten fas – _what in God's name is THAT?_"

The Titans all around were having similar reactions, worst of all Beastboy's, for what Starfire was carrying could only be raw meat mushed together into paste. Less of a cake and more of a meatloaf that someone had forgotten to cook. It was…somehow _**redder**_ than it should have been.

Oh, and it had a bunch of candles sticking out of it. Just for the festive mood.

"Friends! Gather to partake on the festivities!" Starfire clapped eagerly, setting the platter down.

No one seemed in a hurry to move.

Brave Robin cleared his throat, "Kory, love, remember what I said about making birthday cakes?"

"Putting raw meat in a pile and jabbing candles in it does not mean you get to call something a cake," Beast Boy cringed away from the raw red mass.

Starfire may have begun to pout, if not for the cry of revulsion that dragged attention back to the 'cake'.

Ryce froze under the new stares, sitting cross-legged on the countertop she had clamored up unto. The plate was in her lap, and…a big glop of meat in hand, pressed against her mouth. Before anyone could question if they were dreaming the scene, she shrugged and swallowed the fistful noisily, delighting in the juices that squirted from her fingers and lips.

The blond paused again, to look at their surreal stares. And then she grabbed another mouthful.

"OH MY _**GOD!**_" Gauntlet choked. He had given off the original cry: Raven had been too disgusted to move.

Now Ryce just looked annoyed.

"What? These aren't for decoration you know," she defended, allowing her tongue to brush her sharp fangs.

"You are eating _raw meat!_"

"I am NOT human!" Ryce snapped back swallowing a mouth full of gore. "_How s'that not clear by now?_"

* * *

It turned out Starfire of Tamaran was capable of being smug.

"For all your complaints, it is clear who the winner is at this gift-giving affair," she said pointedly. "Our friend Alaryce gorged herself on mine in a manner that not even friend Victor could match."

"Amen to that," Victor says, looking a bit queasy as he watched the empty platter, and Ryce as she stepped out of the bathroom, all washed up and clean and, having tired of hitching Met's pants up every few seconds, clad in a pair of shorts. You could almost forget the mush that was dangling from her mouth not minutes ago.

"I'm pretty sure the arm still wins, Star," Rob had to point out.

"The arm was from us all, it does not count," Starfire said firmly.

"What about the jacket?" Noel asked, interested despite himself.

"Trumped," Kory said just as firmly. "We Tamaraneans know how to treat the extremely carnivorous."

"Amen!" Ryce echoed Victor's earlier statement, looking content.

Kory beamed at her, and then frowned slightly. "I just do not understand why you did not give me a chance to cook the meat."

Silence.

"…It could have been COOKED?!" Cyborg demanded.

"Well, of course," Starfire replied. "Why wouldn't it?"

"We thought…" Nigel started. "Tamaranean cuisine…"

"…Aw man, I was cheated!" Cyborg sighed.

"Hey, it's my birthday. I wanted it raw," Ryce said happily, settling back unto her spot on the counter. There was an odd rumbling in her throat for a moment, before she cut it short, embarrassed to be caught actually purring.

Silence again, for different yet similar reasons.

It was broken when Adam chuckled, taking a carton out of his pocket and tossing it to Ryce. The girl deftly caught it with her mech-arm, without crushing it, and blinked. First at it, then at him.

"Happy birthday, Ryce," he smiled warmly.

Ryce's face broke into a wide grin, and she all but tackled him with a hug. "Thanks, Adam."

"What is it?" Sophie asked.

The birthday girl didn't respond at first, letting the hug linger before pulling away. Without hesitation, she tore open the box with one of her fangs and pulled from it a smaller container. She smiled at Sophie and smacked the small packet into her palm a few times, drawing out a thin stick tha—

"Cigarettes?!" Nigel shouted, while everyone else started. "You got…" he glared at Met, "you got her cigarettes?!"

"Ayup," Met replied easily.

"For the record, I love all my gifts the same," Ryce said, plucking the unlit stick into her lips. "But this is the closest there's been to a favorite."

"Hey!" Robin frowned. "You ca—"

"Eighteen," Ryce smiled devilishly at him, her voice carrying a sing-song tone.

And Robin was momentarily stumped. "…oh. Right."

"I can't believe you would give her those!" Scalpel continued, reproving Metatron in the way doctors do with frustrating patients.

"…Hey," Ryce frowned at the Blacktranian. The other Titans didn't seem thrilled, but they were largely unbothered.

"Well, did you forget the lung at the kitchen table?" Nigel asked exasperatedly.

"I'm pretty sure no one did," Terra grumbled.

Metatron tilted his head, apparently having, in fact, forgotten, "You do know that there's next to zero chance for either Ryce or I to ever have to deal with problems from smoking right?"

"What?!"

"Well, in my case, demonic heritage provides a certain degree of resistance to human ailments, and while I could get, say, cancer, it'd take centuries for it to develop, and I'm not going to live that long," Met explained calmly, though Ryce frowned unhappily at that, "as for Ryce, a lot of the same, and additionally, her healing would take care of any problems before they begin."

Nigel stared. "She has _asthma_."

"And it took near-constant poisoning from the moment she was conceived until her birth for _that _to stick, along with her other ailments. Let's not make a comparison to anything else because nothing else would have survived, much less in as good a condition she did," Met pointed out. "It's just in our biology, Nigel."

"He s'right, you know," Ryce said a little apologetically. "And he said it nicer than I s'about to. Come on, let's not fight over this. It s'a good day."

"She IS eighteen, Nigel," Robin shrugged. "She gets to make her call. I know it's hard, as a doctor, but it is what it is."

"At the very least, we can badger her about it later, hon," Sophie smiled.

The Blacktranian hesitated, but, as always, couldn't stop himself from smiling back for her. "Sorry, Ryce," he said, turning towards the smaller girl. "I respect your choices, but I'll try to steer them a bit, biology or not," he grinned at her eye-roll. "Force of habit."

"Yeah, yeah," Ryce grumbled with a small smile.

"Plus it's annoying to be lectured by someone in their underwear," he added, raising a brow at Met.

"…Oh yeah," Ryce said, looking down to Adam's Dalek boxers. "I had completely forgotten about that."

"We all had," Rob muttered.

A gentle ripple of laughter passed through the group, and they all, by unspoken agreement, moved towards the couch.

"I guess I didn't expect you to support her bad habits," Nigel commented, no longer with an edge, "set an example."

"…Oh _please _don't talk about him as if he were a father-figure or something," Ryce shuddered, trying not to think of the all-too-creepy implications.

Met chuckled at that image, before considering Nigel, "Your mistake is looking at her through your definitions for time. You can't apply time in a linear fashion to a being that spent most of her life in the Neither. She's much older than us in a lot of ways. Many of them literal. A lot of the time she sets an example for me."

Ryce shrank a little, a red tint to her cheeks.

Nigel, however, just frowned. "I don't understand."

"I didn't at first either."

"Come on, enough of the serious talk," Cyborg said as they all sat down. "Let's watch a movie. Birthday girl's choice."

Ryce was the last one, and she paused, fumbling with her pockets. After a few seconds, she came up empty and sighed, before her eyes fell on her new arm.

"…Ryce?" Rob asked.

Ryce held up a metal finger, "Uno momento," and then opened her palm, the blaster hole re-emerging with its pulsing light, much to their surprise.

Some were wondering if they'd need to use the passcode when Ryce stuck the end of the cigarette in her mouth into the hole, followed by a soft sizzling noise.

The scene was so surreal, even with what they knew of Ryce, they could only stare.

"…Is she using her energy blaster made of world-renovating technology and with a net-worth in the millions of dollars, as a…car cigarette lighter?" Noel asked.

"…yes," Raven replied, after seriously considering it.

Immediately, everyone recoiled at the sudden bright light that swallowed the room. Even Ryce abandoned her task in surprise. When the light receded, red-haired Noel Collins sat by Raven, reaching for a beer that was inexplicably on the table.

"Right," he said, popping it open and taking a long, slow swig. "I've come to the conclusion I'm not nearly drunk enough to deal with this day."

"…Seriously?" Ryce sighed, her lit cigarette dangling from her fingers, and her blaster hole closing. "You're such a drama queen," she moved to take a drag.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Robin grabbed her wrist. "Listen, Ryce, you can smoke all you want, but we don't want to smell it. That's fair, right?"

Ryce paused, considering it, "Right," she agreed, putting it out with a quick wave. "Ok, I was going to go get a drink from the kitchen anyway. Any of you want any?"

* * *

"In retrospect, that was a stupid question to ask" Ryce chuckled warmly as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Only then did she feel the strain of keeping her lips pulled back, teeth slightly showing, eyes crinkled in the corners. Her hip hit a chair as she drifted along towards the fridge, and it was just enough to pull her back, to pull her face down into something a bit less there. Something flat and blank and back into form with her original reaction at the start of all of these events today. Ryce _**was**_ thirsty. It had not been a lie. But more than that...so much more she needed to pull away. The half-angel needed to grapple unto the counter top and with pin-straight arms hold herself up against it as the world pulsed hotly around her.

Too much.

All of it.

Cloying sweetness intermingled with the bright copper tang, aftertastes that ran sour in her mouth as she all but fell into the chair and stared at the table, at the waiting cake. Too much. A twisted, frightened part of her wanted to resent it all. Wanted to resent this humming warmth radiating from her stomach and through her skin. Alaryce wanted to resent _them_ for simply not knowing better than to do this. Something so simple and so stupid and she had no idea where to go from it.

Shakily, the sigh pushed past her too-pale lips, heavy enough that she may have heard it strike the table she was propping her elbows up unto. Without another word she buried her face into her hands, blocking out the cake and the kitchen and the light and…

Hands.

Both of them.

Stinging eyes were paid no bother. She would not succumb to the tired cliché of the single, lone tear rolling down her cheek. All she had in her was a hiccupping, weakly-formed laugh. It came back to her, ringing in her ears and falling upon that awful searing in her eyes like a savage animal. Tears were chased back, cornered into the darker parts where she stored her monsters.

"And then you _run_..." she whispered, echoing the rooftop murmurs to the empty air. She relished the way the words felt on her tongue, how they chased back the bilious taste that had infected her mouth. Forcing herself up to her feet, she ignored the tremble to her legs. The fridge door felt heavy under her fingers as she swung it open and ducked inside. The sounds drifting from her friends kept a smile comfortably on her face. Absently, her hands plucked a few items up and tucked them under her arm. The usual mustard for Star, sodas, water, from her arm to the counter.

It was her own drink that was the hardest to find, with several minutes of blind searching until her fingers touched on the long neck hidden all the way in the back. Even that made her grin: Her friends must really were the driest twenty-something year olds in all of Florida. White was hardly her preference, but neither was traversing the halls to her room for the bottle of red she had stashed away.

Her eye glowed softly, and the room came to life behind her, a cabinet opening, a tray settling, drinks moving on to it, an empty travel mug joining them, and waiting for her; because birthday or not, she doubted that certain members' of the Tower would turn a blind eye to a wine bottle and her "rampant alcoholism." Ryce actually felt a little bad for giggling at Tim's face when he had used the phrase.

It was a fond memory, she mused with a grin, and straightened out of the fridge, "Now where s'that bottle-opener run off t-"

The soft whumpf sound of the closing fridge was lost in the shattering crash of the bottle against the kitchen floor. Luckily it had been down to the last glassful, though that didn't stop the fermented beverage from soaking through her multicolored socks. That was okay, too, she supposed. It just meant she'd mostly have to clean the glass. Ryce stared in stunned silence at the countertop with the drinks.

Dimly, she could hear Sophie calling to her, if she was okay, if she needed help. Soft steps shuffled across the carpet, towards her, and, with a queer grin came to her face, Ryce realized that Sophie's steps seemed much louder than her voice. It was funny. The half-angel reeled on the balls of her feet, towards the doorway.

"Are you okay, Ry?" she asked kindly, tilting her head at the odd motion.

Ryce nodded and smiled, "Aye…still getting' used to this," she waved her left arm gently.

A laugh and good-natured scolding tone, "Hm…and maybe someone is trying to tell you something considering what you dropped."

It was so easy for Ryce to answer that laugh with one of her own. It felt surreal to do so. More so when she realize the laughter was genuine, "Prob'ly. Guess s'a Coca-Cola for me."

Sophie nodded and she retreated to the couches where they all waited, out of sight. Ryce didn't move for several seconds, waiting herself. Only when she was certain that no one would return did she turn back.

Some silent sort of laughter curled through her, though her face retained a quiet, contemplative blankness. Who needed wine? She felt drunk enough right now, even if her movements were smooth and flowing. The world was jerking and tilting around her.

The first thing she saw was a slim leg, clad in tight black jeans, then another. Her off-kilter turn had kept Sophie from spotting them, seated so far back unto the counter the bulk of the refrigerator had hidden the rest of the woman's body. At that moment, neither looked much older than the other, the blond and raven-haired 'teenagers' regarding the other in complete silence.

"Hello, Lee. Happy Birthday."

"'Lo, Death. How's 'Liri?"

Death smiled softly at her, resuming the soft sway of her legs as they dangled off the counter, "How she always is. She asked me to lick you for Barnabus. I won't. She asked me to give you a gift. I will," her pale hand held out a used-up cell phone battery.

Ryce chuckled and took it, "A birthday present?"

"From anyone else, a mean-spirited one," she nodded before locking eyes with the half-angel again, "It's been a while since we've been able to chat. How have you been?"

Ryce's shoulders twitched with a shrug, "Not bad, all things considerin.' Lost some weight," she lifted her left arm along with the dark-humored quip, and the Endless chuckled, lifting a small foot to nudge her hip.

"Yes, and gained some elsewhere," She replied, a gentle laugh rolling off of her, like a song, at Ryce's immediate scowl. "No insult intended. They're good pounds. You no longer look so haggard and ghoulish. Quasi-Starvation and exhaustion are difficult looks to pull off, Lee."

"What can I say…Third World-esque, Thousand-Yard-Stare chic was in."

It felt too natural to joke with her like this, to hear the nickname that only the Endless called her. Felt too at home and safe in a way Ryce had never recognized as something unnerving before. She had known the dark woman all of her life, had marked her appearances with pleasant anticipation. For all her changes, this discomfort had taken her the most by surprise. Looking back into Death's dark eyes without a flinch, they stood in silence. It was only when she saw the envelope in her hands that the half-angel understood what it was that had changed.

"…" she swallowed dryly, something stinging in her eyes, "…I don't want to go…"

Moments ticked by, neither woman reacting, nor breaking their quiet gaze. Death dropped her eyes first, to shake her head sadly, "I'm sorry it took you eighteen years to feel that way, Lee."

Ryce gave a shaky smile, "Better late than never, huh?"

"Hey Ryce, you die in there or something?" Garfield called out from the other room. A violent flinch tore through the maid's entire body at the all-too-ironic words. The room had, fortunately, stopped spinning. Had it not, there was no doubt: She would have collapsed, into the ground, with the shattered glass and her own nausea. Something stuck in her throat at the smell of the wine fumes, slowly growing overpowering her. Moments ago, she craved it, now the thought of allowing the fermented mixture of grape to touch her lips was triggering something that threatened to overwhelm her gag reflex and make a further mess.

"I'll be right in" she called back, voice steady.

Ryce's fingers stole to the carton of boxes split open on the table. She didn't look back to the woman as she took her discarded, cold cigarette and set the tip cherry red with her blaster's light. It made her smile. She wondered if Victor had suspected that she'd use the blaster for that very irresponsible purpose. The arm had been from 'everyone' and they'd also each given her an individual present, all except Cyborg.

She'd go ahead and assume that the makeshift lighter had been his personal gift for her. He had just been subtler than Adam about it. And wasn't _that _something.

The sick-sweet smell of the wine was quickly displaced by the acrid, warm smoke. The paradoxically cooling burn of menthol that curled through her throat, before triggering a small coughing fit and short wave of light headedness. Funny, how different that first drag, after a few short weeks of cold turkey, was. It wasn't exactly funny, actually, but it gave her something else to think about as she worked to clean up her mess.

"Waitin' 'til my birthday s'a nice touch. Sendin' YOU of all people's even better. Who's ideas were those?" she asked softly, dumping the glass fragments into a rubbish bin. Her reflection was distorted and unnerving glinting back from their surface, "…s'it dad's?"

"Does it really matter?"

"No, m'stallin' the inevitable, please play along?"

The Endless behind her laugh quietly.

There was a tired smile on Ryce's face when she turned, "So m'assumin' they want me present for it…how long b'fore the Council convenes?"

"Long enough to watch a movie with your friends. Unless you don't want to."

"I want to," Ryce nodded without hesitation.

"Then go do it," Death smiled, shrugging her slim shoulders at the blonde's almost eager answer, "I'll make sure you have time enough to appear."

With numb – yet oddly cool and steady – hands, Ryce gathered up the various drinks and made her way into the other room. The Titans had all made themselves comfortable on couches, chairs, some even on the floor. She paused to watch them for a few moments, taking in whatever details she could gather at a quick glance. Burning them to memory. Lines, crease, folds and planes of features and minute details. Garfield had a stain on his shirt that he would ask her to spot-treat later. The right knee on Rob's jeans was starting to wear its way into tearing open. Kory had pulled her hair back into a loose high ponytail, revealing flares of orange and differing reds through her hair like tiny streaks of fire. Victor was playing Angry Birds on a panel in his arm and letting out a silent curse when Nigel accidently bumped him causing his shot to run too high. Adam was…

Adam was looking straight at her, meeting her eyes.

"Didn't we _just _have this conversation?" Tim blinked, looking up from his COM.

The words startled Ryce back into herself. The cigarette was dangling loosely from her lips, threatening to topple unto the floor, forgotten. An echo of a memory fleeted over her, of standing nearby this spot, watching Robert fumble clumsily for the cigarette she had placed into his mouth before pushing him over the back of the couch. That had only been a few short months ago. It felt so much like a lifetime. With the barest hint of a nod, her new hand came up to crush the smoke. There was a near-inaudible hiss as the smoldering tip was smothered by the metal.

"…Aye…sorry 'bout that."

Sans mask, he quirked an eyebrow at the response, wondering where the typical snark had gone. Not that he was complaining, watching her dump the contents of her arms on the table, Tim could definitely get used to a less hostile maid. Yet something in the way Ryce was acting seemed off. There was something odd in her movements as she made her way over to the couch Metatron was settled into, flopping down between him and Rob bonelessly.

"So you're seriously jus' goin' to stay in boxers, then?" Ryce asked, knowing how uncomfortable Met's fashion choice made Rob.

"I'm protesting their status as inappropriate public clothing," Adam revealed.

"Indeed?" the girl asked with a gleam to her eye. Rob's "please don't" was, of course, ignored.

"Aye, long have boxers been shamed when they are so clearly shorts. Briefs are one thing. Boxers? Boxers are the way of the future for practical clothing."

"Makes sense," Ryce nods. "I always thought they felt really comfy, especially against panties."

"You always make sense," Adam replied gently, meeting her eyes. He smiled.

Ryce looked down after a few seconds, smiling too. She cleared her throat, "What…what about winter, though."

"Winter's bullshit," Adam replied instantly.

"So are grapefruits."

"Well-reasoned."

"Hey," Sophie said, taking interest, "what's your stance on pantaloons?"

"Only to be worn at Rocky Horror Picture Show re-enactments," Ryce and Adam said as one.

"…huh, that oddly makes sense to me," Sophie said, sounding surprised.

They settled into a comfortable talk after that, laughing as friends and family often do, when celebrating.

"So what undoubtedly disturbing example of cinema have you unearthed for us today, Alaryce?" Raven eventually asked, eying the DVD box the girl had produced.

Starfire glanced at her with nervous eyes, trying so hard to stay polite with the kind of question she was asking, "…It is…not the 'sniff' films, yes? The ones you have hidden in your room."

"S'called a snuff film."

Shooting an exasperated look at the blond, Tim placed a reassuring hand on his girlfriend's arm, "Ryce does NOT have any snuff films, Kory."

"Of course not," Ryce smirked, a bit of her typical manner coming back to her, "None that Tim or Noel have found yet anyway."

"…do you LIKE us conducting a search on your room every weekend?" Noel sighed.

"I like seein' if you will actually go through the hassle of gettin' search warrants."

"You really do make badgering him an art…" Gauntlet chimed in.

"I prefer callin' it poetry. I am the Noel Nuisancing Neruda of my time."

Metatron tilted his head at that before stretching out his arm and resting it comfortably around her shoulder, "I like alliteration. I'm going to use that sometime in the future. Remind me next time we have a chaos-causing, cataclysmic crisis, munchkin."

"M'markin' s'mention a might momentarily."

"…I love watching you guys speak Metaryce as much as the next person but weren't we going to watch a movie?" Sophie chuckled.

Ryce nodded flicking the display box's cover for all to see, "Aye…I wanna watch what s'in this."

For a moment there was no reaction, until both Garfield and Kory let out choked squeaks and very clearly inched away from the DVD. Victor and Tim merely showed what could be called extreme discomfort.

"No way. Uh-uh. No how. We are NOT watching that thing again!" Beastboy shook his head as he rambled, eyes narrowed on the dark box with its tall red lettering and splash of blood jutting up from one corner onto a set of dentures. It almost kept him from noticing the clear look of disappointment on Ryce's face. She was truly an artisan of the 'kicked kitten' look.

"You guys said it was my pick."

"…and you couldn't find ANYTHING other than _Man Bites Dog_?" Cyborg shuddered.

"What's wrong with it?" Terra frowned, studying the cover curiously. "Is it scary or something?"

"It's Noel's favorite movie," Raven said in lieu of a longer explanation.

Tara blinked, gears turning in her head for a few moments before she looked to Robin, "Okay yea, I vote no too…"

Savior frowned, "…It's not a 'favorite movie,' per se. You people need to stop oversimplifying my opinions – this is why I come off as deranged."

"Yes, of course that's why," Gauntlet scoffed.

Seeing the chaos about to descend, Tim stood and took the DVD from the maid, "Guys…we did promise. I'm sure it won't be as bad now that we know what's coming."

"…uh…I don't," Gauntlet tried to interject. Terra and Sophie nodded vigorously in agreement. Nigel was surprisingly unconcerned by the whole thing.

"Well, soon you will. So let's just settle down and watch," he opened the box and caught sight of the disk inside, "…Ryce, is there EVER a time where you aren't painfully obnoxious?"

With an annoyed sigh, the hero inserted the disk into the player, glancing up as the title screen flashed to life. Not long behind this was a collective sigh of relief from the rest of his team when they took in the gold accents and spaceship.

Ryce shrugged, amusement lingering in her eyes, "I lost _Serenity_'s DVD cover…so sue me."

Beastboy slumped a little in his seat, "Oh, thank god."

While Robin continued to mess around with the settings, idly explaining the premise of 'Firefly' to those who had not seen it, Raven raised an eyebrow and turned to the tiny blonde, "…You knew about the time we watched _Man Bites Dog_. You watched us…watching movies?"

"…I was ten and you were cool and I had nothin' else to do that day and shut up…" Ryce's blush practically glowed.

Raven smiled slightly, knowing how rare it was to get those reactions from her. It was a minor victory she took humbly, leaning against Noel as the movie began. Her teammates settled into their own positions of comfort. All, she noted, close to the sides of significant others, should they have them. Ryce, displaying her usual lack of appreciation for others' personal space, was all but sitting in Met's lap, her bare legs resting in Rob's. The contrasting looks of familiarity and alarmed discomfort were amusing. Perhaps enough so that she missed how solemnly content the girl's face was. The movie – though not her usual tastes – was interesting enough itself to distract from how quiet she stayed. It kept her – or really any of them – from noticing how her eyes would occasionally draw away from the screen to watch them instead.

They watched until the credits had finished rolling, past the studio logo, until the title screen popped back up and began to repeat its now somehow unsettling soundtrack loop. All around the room came cracks and pops, stretches with murmurs of appreciation for the movie, idle sounds of living.

Ryce had stopped watching them. She stared unblinking and still at the yellow glow of the screen, the image that asked if they wanted to play the movie or perhaps watch some bonus features. A voice in her head that in some would verge on hysteria, calmly wondered if she could stretch this into stealing time for those bonuses. She knew the answer to that though. When she swallowed it was with a dry click, her tongue a useless, flat expanse of cotton. So that was that. That was it.

That was all there was.

"Seriously, why do my favorite characters always die?" Beastboy sighed in mock defeat, "It's always the best ones. Always the funny guys. Makes me nervous whenever we go out."

"Fortunately for you, your jokes are never that funny," Raven nodded sagely as she stood from her place beside Noel, and the others began to do the same.

The shifter nodded in agreement before pausing and shooting her a look, "…Hey…"

"…This really only means _I'm _the one in constant mortal danger," Gauntlet realized, aghast.

"I suddenly comprehend how Ryce gets around the Tower without us seeing her," Tim grumbled, replaying the ending scene with the strange girl in the air vent.

"You only _**just**_ figured out that she's ceiling cat?" Cyborg asked.

"…Vic, reinforce the air vent covers…tonight."

The conversations may have continued on like this for some time, only tapering off when their number began to disburse. They might have gone off without ever having known what came next. She had considered on and off throughout the movie of going this route. It was only in the past half minute that she had decided otherwise. It was a simple coupling of words, a whisper that escaped her, thrown about through a day or life perhaps never often enough, that broke through the lit afternoon and dropped like a stone.

"Thank you."

Two simple words. Yet, they all turned their eyes over to the youngest of their number, sensing the pregnant weight in them. Ryce had pulled on her jacket, freshly repaired from the ravages of her brother's falling during the White Call. She stood apart from them, with the air of someone who had something – too many things – to say.

"Thank you…for…well," a hapless shrug and a helpless smile, "For ev'rythin,' I guess."

Tim felt the beginnings of a frown tugging at his mouth. Some of his friends, he could see, also showed their own expressions of doubt. Very few though. Far too many were smiling back at the rare moment of vulnerability Ryce seemed to be on the precipice of.

Cyborg let out a hearty laugh, "Yea well, if you wanna do something bigger next year try to plan to not have any more crazy-ass siblings show up to eat us the week before."

For a moment, Ryce regarded him before her smile softened and her mouth opened into a nearly inaudible laugh. Her hands tucked deep inside her pockets, but not before Raven's eyes had caught the tremor that ran through them, "…not s'goin' to be a problem, I think."

"Ryce…what's wrong?"

The expression was unfathomable, deep and quiet, and alien, and it brought Raven back months to an alleyway. It brought back the rain, the enigmatic ramblings and ravings of a girl the empath did not know if she could trust. Knowing Ryce as she did now, there was something of a tired sadness there, overlaid with quiet resignation. It was the look of something old and worn that was merely waiting for pressure to finally begin the tearing.

"…I…I didn't want to do it like this," she explained, "It would've been easier…less painful, to jus' go."

"Huh?" Gar looked over to her in confusion. Confused. That's what they all were now.

Ryce looked to the ceiling, blinking repeatedly, "It…seemed unfair to do it that way. Even if it was easier for me. I jus' wanted to say thank you all. Y-y'took me in…y'deal with me even though you have no reason to.

"No matter what comes next…I wanted you all to know how happy I was here. How happy I was t'day," her voice cracked only once before she regained her composure and looked down, giving a watery smile, "There….s'a lot more I wanted to say. I thought I'd be able t-to say it."

"Ryce, what's going on?" Nigel asked. He looked different that the others, there was a certain dawning in his eyes. Not comprehension, but the look of a man that had experienced something like this before.

Her own eyes darted to his, back to Raven, to Noel, to the floor, to the ceiling, "I…I need to say it."

Finally, her eyes fell upon the one person in the room she had refused to looked at. The one person whose face she had avoided with almost meticulous attention, "I-…I-I wanted to say…"

Adam Matthews stared back at her.

"Adam, I-"

The gasp Raven sucked in cut through her sputtering. The look of horror and dismay was not for Ryce but for the dark haired young woman who walked out from behind her.

"No!"

Mismatched blue eyes hardened with pain as they met yellow, "Don't follow me!"

And with that…Ryce was gone.

And in the wakes of the winds of her departure, the birthday cake laid on the table, untouched, its candles dead and cold.

* * *

_It's **time to begin**, isn't it?  
I get a little bit bigger, but then I'll admit  
I'm just the same as I was  
Now don't you **understand**  
That I'm **never changing **who I am ~ Imagine Dragons "It's Time"_


	20. Chapter 20

_So make your siren's call and sing all you want  
I will not hear what you have to say  
Cause I need freedom now and I need to know how_

_**To live my life as it's meant to be** ~ Mumford and Sons"The Cave"_

* * *

_The color was wrong._

_Stars and gods above the girl knew __**that**__ was a ridiculous thing to focus upon. Of course, the centipede's color wasn't wrong. Brown wasn't wrong. The tiny many-legger skittered frantically through the leaf litter at her feet, its limbs scratching and gritting at the ground in such a way that no human could hear it. Frown deepening at the delicate trampling, the girl made not of her lacking humanity. On his merry centipede way to do merry centipede things. Eat, crawl, make little centipedes…_did they sleep_, she wondered. Ducking and weaving and heaving over the debris of its world, always hurrying to avoid the cruel curve of a beak or talon. The flat, crushing expanse of a shoe falling from the sky ab -_

_-**Crrrrunch**-_

_Irises folded into predatory slits as her mouth curled up in the quiet pleasure the sound beneath her boot brought_. It was the little things_. __Wasn't that what Adam was so fond of telling her? The little things, like the symphony of oh-so misplaced and projected aggression. In her chest came a small rumbling purr, from her mouth a litany of lyrical sounding murmurs that even in their odd beauty were filled with a bitter edge of resentment. Outside of something that sounded like "__Cri'ssatiel" the babble seemed impossible for a completely human tongue to reproduce. _

_More rustling came from her right. Far too large to be more insects. Jerking in surprise, the blond teenager's pupils contracted back to normal only to find a small gaggle of young children peering at her curiously. The girls' long dresses brushed the ground, the boys' slacks doing the same in spite of their tiny suspenders. Distrust and curiosity merged in their eyes blinking out from beneath bonnets or straw hats. There was little doubt they had heard her both purring and speaking. Little doubt that they were already trying to wrap their young minds around what exactly it was they had stumbled upon. _

_They were still staring._

_So she contracted her irises again and grinned her fangs out at them._

_Frightened squeals peeled out of some of the girls and even some of the younger boys before they bolted away back through the brush towards their village. The few that didn't immediately flee only paused long enough to hook their fingers about in some gesture that…well…frankly she had already stopped caring, glaring at the retreating Amish children. _Teach you lot t'stare, _she thought venomously._

"…_you are going to make a wonderfully terrifying parent one day. Come back wee Amishes…Amites? Almonds? What would you guys be called anyway? I have cookies…Nothing unsettling about a total stranger luring children into the woods with cookies," a familiar voice calmly intoned from behind her. Vague warmth spread through her at the returned presence. She would have been loath to admit though. What did it say about her, besides desperate, that she had built attachments of any sort let alone strong ones to a being – _a demon_, her father had grumbled when she last spoke with him – she had only known for a few short weeks?_

_Turning about to acknowledge her companion noncommittally, she instead came to a full body pause. Eyes rounded out along with her pupils, frowning mouth dropped open, and she stared._

_Standing several feet away, Adam Matthews grinned his lazy grin at her, thumbs hooked into a pair of suspenders. They stretched out over a blue cotton shirt and held up a pair of plain brown pants. Perched atop his typical, almost bed-ragged looking, two-toned hair was a larger version of the straw hats the male children had been wearing. Completing the picture was the white, fake wizard's beard drooping down from her friend's face. It was too big so the center hole gaped open to reveal most of his chin as well as his mouth._

_"Well, I had to go native. Wool was too itchy…and I didn't have time to grow my own," he explained sensing her stare as he removed a baggie from his pockets._

_She was aware in a hazy sort of way that some of the children had come back again. They were approaching Met with the same wary distrust in which they had first attempted to inspect her. However, this time their eyes were locked less upon the stranger and more upon the bag of baked goods he held in his clawed hands. Even the odd sight of his black finger nails were not enough of a deterrent away from the sweet morsels being offered._

_But it wasn't the cookies that she was focusing on. It was the too-ridiculous-to-comprehend Amish outfit the chaosling had thrown together (and when had he found that? She'd only been away from him for three or four minutes tops) and was now sporting. Glancing up and down she took it all in, often blinking as if this would either return him to normal or somehow make sense of the whole thing. It was when the Amish children had begun to tentatively take the offered cookies that her searching stare traveled down the coarse pants to the ground where she found Met's feet to still be encased in his ever present black converse. They struck out of the homemade clothes like a glaring beacon._

_They were the last straw._

_It didn't come out of her in a trickle. It wasn't gradual. It bubbled out of her like a mentos dropped into a bottle of diet cola in a gush. The children, and even Metatron, jumped a bit at the sudden peal of belly deep laughter that rang out into the wooded air. It had been the converse. Somehow those dingy, well worn shoes had been what brought the hysterics out of her chest, that had pulled her lips back into a face splitting grin and set tears streaming down her eyes at the hilarity of it all. Even now she was trying to quiet herself, to reign the laughter back in, but wave after wave it kept coming, until she had stumbled back and all but fallen unto her backside on an overturned log. The trip made her laugh harder, head thrown back mouth wide open to reveal once more those fangs she was so proud of._

_If her grin had been scary, apparently the sight of her inhuman canines while laughing manically was all but terrifying as the children did not bother themselves with any gestures this time around. They just ran back to their village uttering cries of fear in their wakes. This too just incited her to laugh even harder, clutching her sides with mirth and sliding off the log into the leaf litter she had committed insecticide in mere minutes ago._

_It took some time. A few full minutes, in fact, for the teenager to finally get a handle on herself. When she came back down from her fit of laughter she found her stomach muscles actually cramping and sore from it. A quick swipe of her sleeve cleaned the happy tears and trails of runoff mascara from her cheeks. Feeling Adam's eyes on her, she managed to tug herself back up unto the log, a hiccup of her dying laughter still on her lips._

_Met just smiled at her when she lifted her stare to his. She was still smiling. Smiling harder than she'd ever done in front of him. Perhaps harder than she had in years._

_"…I should bring you to the sexual repressed religious region more often, it does wonders for your sense of humor," he smiled with a tilt of his head, "I was right though. Smiling's a good look on you."_

_She recalled their first meeting._

_She remembered her promise._

_Breaking eye contact, she began to search the ground for something. The current setting made the search a short one fortunately; her fingers reaching out and plucking a long stick up from the ground. With a swipe of her boot, she cleared a patch of leaves from the ground in front of her seat on the log. It took a few tries to make sure she had enough room._

_"Trees are such litterbugs," he nodded calmly, taking a seat beside her, "I'm glad to have found someone with a similar sentiment. What's the stick for?"_

_"Your reward," she explained, placing the tip of the stick upon the uncovered dirt and beginning to drag it along. It took only a few moments of scratching, leaving furrows and grooves in the soft earth, forming one letter and then the next in blocky capital letters._

_A…L…A…R…Y…C…E_

_She swooped the stick about the letters, circling them before looking to the half-demon expectantly. He was smiling softly, tilting his head at the name curiously. While she had been writing, he had tugged his fake beard down from his face and tucked it under his chin. The silence felt thick between them and Alaryce bemusedly realized she was getting nervous waiting for him to react in some way. She waited for an eternity totaling forty-seven seconds before he finally opened his mouth._

_"Hm…not quite," he murmured before lifting one of his converses and dragging it through the first three letters of her name. The letters disappeared into the dragging dirt leaving only four behind. In an instant his face and eyes lit up at his work, "Ah…there we go."_

_"Riss?" Alaryce asked, a frown beginning to form._

_"Nope. Ryce," he explained using a long I sound as he leaned back and smiled at her._

_"That s'not right," she shook her head before he laughed and cut her off._

_"Of course it is, Ryce."_

_In spite of herself, Ryce smiled back at him._

_Of course it was._

* * *

It hummed through her. Vibrated from the very tips of her fingers, up her arms, and down her body, until looping back around when it hit the soles of her feet. Then the current just continued with no ending, no beginning. In the most basic understanding of chronos – Adam had long ago done away with its simplicity with his adventures – it had been just over two years. It felt more like an eternity of being without this electric buzzing. The feeling of familiarity that comes with home, and of alienating otherness that part of her was rejected by merely existing here.

A not-so-stranger in an always strange land.

"Lee?"

"Don't call me that," Ryce opened her eyes and looked tiredly at the Endless.

The tone was far harsher, snappy even, than Ryce had ever intended it to be. It probably explained that vicious growl that disrupted the mystical hum of the Neither running through her. With as much calm as she could muster, Ryce turned from Death to look at the much taller being standing before her.

To call her a thing of great and terrible beauty would be nothing short of the most vile of insults. Her skin was expanse of unblemished ivory, her hair a black cascade of ink. Standing at over six feet, she dwarfed the tiny blond and even the Endless in statuesque grace. Her eyes were the color of polished sea glass, and narrowed at Ryce, pupils slitting in reproach. Behind her, a set of wings that appeared to be spun from glass-thin, arctic ice and snow sat unnaturally still against her pale skin, the light reflecting from their surface in a subtle glow of auroral blues, greens, and purples.

It took less than a moment for Ryce to gather her wits enough to remember the decorum afforded to this sibling. Half-Fae, especially those of high breeding enough to see their mother reign over the Winter Court, were…easily offended. Ryce bowed her head, less so in submission than in an attempt to hide the roll of her eyes, "Dearest sister. S'an honor to see you again, Lady Maerwynn."

"Who do you think you are to speak to an Endless as an equal, Nephilim?" The gauze, translucent slip that was Maerwynn's dress rustled around her as if caught in the constant agitation of a chilled breeze.

"No one and nothin' of matter or importance," Ryce intoned in bland practice, "Ill-bred and humbled to be blessed with the company of such patient greaters."

Maerwynn's merlot lips twisted into a further sneer, her nose wrinkling its perfection for disgust, "You are late. We do not care for the excuses. You are to go to your chambers and change from those rags. You drag in with you the stench of mortals."

"Immediately, Ma'am."

"You will remain there while your trial commences. When the Council has convened and deliberated you will be sent forth to return for your verdict and subsequent punishment."

It fell out of her. She did not even realize she had snorted in derision before the words were flying past her lips, "Nothin' like an unbiased jury."

A sharp intake of breath, a slight widening of the half-fae's eyes. Prior to any sign though, Ryce felt her skin contract to her muscles and tendons with the sudden frost chill that fell over the room. That had been a mistake; she saw it even as the sentence toppled past her lips, a mistake that would have a sharp and undoubtedly unpleasant set of consequences. The teenager made an attempt to step back away from her half-sister, only to come into contact with her escort.

"She does have a point, Maerwynn. Any mention of punishment implies you have already decided her fate without trial," there was some sort of amusement in Death's tone, "something I'm sure the Judge would frown upon, given his duty to be impartial."

The fae's gaze didn't waver from her sibbling. Even as Death clasped a gentle hand on Ryce's shoulder in farewell, her alien, cat's eyes remained, as if not aware of the Other's presence. To any outsider, Maerwynn's unnatural stillness would lend itself more to a marble statue than a living being. Until finally, after eternities of inhuman silence, she spoke.

"Yes. Of course. A slip of the tongue. Impartiality is of the utmost importance," she said neutrally to the retreating Endless. Ryce took the chance and forced her own legs to move, eager to be away from her sibling and the wrath that was sure to come.

Ryce never thought she'd have been glad for the loss of her arm. Life had always enjoyed surprising her though, and when the ivory-white hand clamped down upon her left forearm she knew this to be one of those wildcard-pitch moments.

She raised her dread-filled eyes to lock them with the frozen green hatred of her sister. If wisdom hadn't been enough to seal her lips for once, the healthy dose of fear this look instilled was. Deep in the remaining bone and flesh of her shoulder she could feel the frost-bitten chill emanating from the expanse of her new arm. Yes, Ryce decided she was very glad that the half-fae's grasp was tightened around the metal and not the flesh. Whatever organic Maerwynn touched would have simply cracked into millions of frozen crystalline shards.

"You have forgotten your place in this world, Nephilim."

Cringing, Ryce forced herself to drop her eyes, lest she lose even the metal completely. It was frankly odd how much hate the sibling could pour into a term. How she could make it sting more and hit harder than such terms of endearment like 'Maggot'.

Slowly, once sure to leave behind a painful chill, Maerwynn released her hold. When she next spoke next, it was with terrible amusement, "The mortals returned you to us missing a few pieces, I see. I wonder if they will mourn us returning you with more dismemberment than their shiny metal can fix…go change, little sister. Before I decide to just rip out your insolent tongue."

Ryce didn't linger, racing down the halls without looking back, without even lifting her head. Not that she needed to: Her feet still knew the way, the right places to step, turn, stop, drift. There was a way things were done here, even with the simplest things like walking. One simple rule that linked them all was that it was better to never make eye-contact.

The wood felt warm under her fingers, something alive and familiar that heaved dutifully under the missed and familiar touch of her hands.

…No, that wasn't right. Not really.

It didn't feel warm, it felt hot. Feverish, diseased, a sickly creature in her guardianship, her charge to bear. The room opened to her with the easiest of pressures, and Ryce finally looked up to be greeted by the stale, dead air with just a hint of dust.

Two years had changed nothing. The lavish spoils of a child of privilege and standing were nothing like the soon to be bedroom she had left behind her in the tower. A four post bed, silken sheets and fine lace. Golds and silvers and gems winked back at her from the trimmings on the room. It had been kept as immaculate and untouched as she had left it, as she had been taught to keep it when it was home. Her home. The walls were lined with books, with expensive toys, jewelry, clothes, odds and ends fit for a princess.

Ryce crossed the room and, with a spark of her eye, the closet eased open. More finery. They'd expect her to be in something neutral and plain. Nothing flashy. Flashy and gaudy did not an apologetic demeanor convey. She'd be expected to grovel. Like a pet. Good dog, Ali. Now play dea-

Her head was beginning to swim and turn, triggered by the room's scent of distinct inoccupation. In her gut, something was coming alive and awake, unfurling long segmented limbs, bloated and venomous like a spider.

She'd barely said good bye.

She hadn't told him…

Turning away from the closet, she closed her eyes. She stumbled back and nearly fell onto the floorboards in her blind movements. As she straightened though, her eyes fell on the particular board she tripped over. Ryce dropped to her knees and ran her fingers along the slates, ignoring the sharp stabbings of splinters in the tips of her digits.

She found it quickly enough, slipping a finger into a worn, well-hidden groove. The air she released by lifting the board was even staler, but, somehow, someway, it was warmer than the beautiful room she sat in. Without a word, Ryce slipped down into the yawning opening, and years-long habit pulled the floorboard down behind her.

It was smaller in here than she remember…not like she had exactly hit a growth spurt. Her books and pilfered knick-knacks, and keepsakes had gathered a lot of dust since she'd been gone. Wriggling her body carefully, she managed to back herself into the corner where she'd spent so many hour hiding or simply just being. She idly noticed how the world had finally halted its titling now that she was down here in the dark, and smiled quietly at that.

She didn't know how long it took for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, how long she sat beneath the floorboards like a child once more. Minutes or hours, given where she was, there was a real chance it could be both. In the quiet, her previous thoughts returned. It had been a shabby goodbye at best. At worst it had been out right cruel. Cruel to them and cruel to her too.

A shift caused a small clattering beside her, and her eyes fell on the small instrument she had knocked into the floor.

Careless. Not that she had ever played down here; it would have been questionable suicide to give away her Secret Place like that. No, she had hid the violin here for safekeeping, right at the start of her quest. Now, the time of secrecy and crawl spaces had passed. For a few short – or perhaps not – hours, Alaryce was, for all purposes, untouchable.

And after?

Ryce smiled bitterly and raised the violin to her shoulder, chin resting against it, the right position, just as she had been taught. There would be no "after," so what did a few melodious strings matter, with her good hand guiding them through a graceful bow.

Like all things in this place, two years had passed since she had last touched it, though it didn't show. When she had last played it had been in a much different place than this. She had sat before the crackling of a fire, and it hadn't been _this _violin – it had belonged to a woman named Naomi. Morgan had been so waffled, he'd dragged Eddie to his feet to dance, and the others joined in soon after. When her arm began to ache, Naomi had taken over and Eddie yanked her away to join in t—

The soft peels of music ripped up into a painfully off-key screech, reminding her of a woman shrieking. Her eyes burned, angry tears refused to fall, even as the violin fell and she buried her face in her hands. She couldn't do this.

She might have sat there until they called for her, hidden from the world.

She would have, in that stark silence, that privacy…if not for the soft pop.

Her eyes barely lifted to spot the flickering of the flame. A candle sitting on her shelf, had she somehow not noticed it before? Even as she crawled towards it, she doubted even she was that oblivious.

It was a tea light candle, barely larger in diameter than a half-dollar. It rested on a white envelope, unmarred by anything more than the dark loops of a single word written by an old fashioned inked quill. Only one word. "Ryce." Not Ali. Not Alaryce. Ryce.

She removed the tiny candle and placed it gently down on the shelf, the envelope trembling in her fingers. There was a weight to it, something shifted freely inside. She tore it open and tilted it, feeling the paper crinkle silently beneath her fingers. The weight slid down the envelope's seam with a small jingle before toppling out into her outstretched palm. Cool metal against her skin, the candles low flickering sending glints of light off the trinket's surface. She had forced herself to forget about it. In all the chaos of the White Call and the days that came after, such sentimental grievances seemed a trifle childish and trivial, no matter how badly they stung. No matter how much she wanted to mourn the loss.

The chain had been fixed. The Celtic knot had been painstakingly polished into a brilliant shine. Someone had taken time to ensure her precious necklace's restoration. A thick lump had formed in Ryce's throat as she palmed the piece of jewelry with something like reverence, running her fingers over the charm and chain alike. She was so enthralled she almost missed the final piece to the confusing puzzle: The small tag her fingers discovered tied to the silver chain. Holding it up to the tiny flicker of candlelight she found the same handwriting as the envelope, with another brief message.

_Your choice._

Before Ryce realized what was going on, she had already crawled out from the hideaway and stood in the beautifully cold room.

Your choice. What choice was that, she wondered. What choices were left available to her? All her choices were behind her, the last of them lingering in a Tower, literally worlds away. She had chosen to go with Death quietly. She had chosen to say goodbye. She had chosen to look him right in the eye and stay silent. There was nothing left within or without her. This world was what it had always been: The antithesis of choice.

With little care, she ripped the enigmatic tag from the chain and let it drift carelessly to the floor. _Enough __dilly-dallying__,_ she thought somberly, _fun s'fun but done s'done._ How long they would make her wait, she had no way of knowing. However, she wasn't about to be caught lazing about when she'd been given a direct order by a Council head. Ryce moved her tired, bemused eyes from the necklace, instead meeting her own gaze in the vanity beside her wardrobe.

Ryce was no beacon of modesty. She knew well what she looked like in a mirror. But even then, her entire body seized up at the sight of her reflection. The change of scenery, the years of experience and life, rendered the girl in the mirror as something completely unrecognizable.

Smooth, unblemished skin beneath her eyes. And such bright, living eyes. Even the faded blue of her left seemed altogether brighter than she had ever seen it. The curved hunch of a cringing posture was gone – Ryce stood straight and tall, not a cowering child, the careless relaxed ease of something so much more _normal_, of a fuller face. Death had been spot-on with her comment about her weight. The tilt and strain of bones beneath too frail, too pale skin had been replaced by soft curves, lean muscle.

For the first time in her life, Ryce sat _**alive**_ in the Beautiful Room.

Your choice.

Her Choice.

Robbie's charm bit into the flesh of her palm, her clenched fingers giving way to whitened knuckles. Ryce did not wait to be called. Ryce did not change. She didn't even glance back at the waiting closet.

What she did do was slam the heavy oak door behind her on the way out.

* * *

"Where?"

"To the Neither."

Starfire looked from her love to her best friend's somber faces. Years of war and battle kept the concern that flared like fire in eyes flickering at a low flame. It kept the tone of her voice even and calm when she felt anything but, "What is this "Neither" friend Raven?"

"It where Ryce is from. Where she was born," the empath explained.

"Where her father resides?" Tim asked, a question he needed no answer to. Raven nodded anyway.

"But…why? What does he want with her?" Garfield cut in, "I mean…she lost her ARM…isn't that enough? What more could he want from her?"

It slipped out of Raven's mouth before she could stop herself, "Her head."

The looks of horror her blunt admission earned her did nothing to quell her explanation. No matter how dark and cold a truth it was they needed to hear it, "Ryce's interference always carried a price tag with it. She knew this. We all did. It was only a matter of time before Azrael came to collect. She'll be tried…most likely unfairly…and she'll be punished."

"…you mean killed," Sophie murmured.

"…I mean killed."

For a moment, no one spoke, many still gob smacked by the equilibrium upsetting turn the day had suddenly taken. Rob turned to Robin his eyes hard, the Gauntlet spreading out over his arm, "What's the plan."

Across the room came a hiss as a panel containing their best weaponry shifted out into to display before them all. It was not Tim who answered but Noel as he tossed Nigel a glaive with practiced ease, "We go and take her back…or set death's kingdom to burn trying."

* * *

The Council table was made of stone, in the shape of a horseshoe whose mouth faced the door. There were twelve chairs on each side, for each Council member.

At the head of the table, the middle point of the horseshoe, sat the Death God. Archangel Azrael.

To his immediate right, sat Xavius. And to his left was the seat of the Heir – a chair currently occupied by Maerwynn. No one commented on her insolence. If anything, those who dared look in her direction at all did little to hide their amusement, the venomous excitement that occasionally bled into their eyes. Lions awaiting their release in the coliseum, for the poor peasant flesh their fangs would find purchase in.

The room was beautiful, in its own bare way. It was mostly stone, and seemed specifically made to not steal focus, maintaining it in the beings that occupied the chairs, and not the chairs themselves. The last, honestly remarkable thing in the room was a block of stone that rose perfectly in the middle of the table. It was a seat for the accused, officially.

But it was also known as the Executioner's Block, where the accused would meet their end if found guilty.

It had been used for millennia, and as a result, at some point the stains of blood had become part of the room, impossible to wipe away, no matter what method. Like the chips and cracks gouged into its surface. Reminders of the swings that carved them. Impossible to get rid of the lingering smell, unless you left the room.

This was the seat that awaited Ryce. And that was the first thing she saw, when the maple and iron door crashed open with a terrifying boom.

As one, the strange multitude of eyes turned to rest upon the open doorways. The force of the entrance would suggest a hulking behemoth awaiting them – the likes of the eternal soldier, Xavius, sitting by the archangel's side at the head of the table.

But what stood there with narrowed, defiant eyes, what strolled into the room with not a hint of arrogance, but a suffocating cloud, she was not a soldier. Not by their measure.

"How _dare _you…" one of the council members hissed wetly, her oddly-formed mouth making their native tongue sound thicker than it should.

Ryce strode past her without a glance, and her jacket was open with its fasteners swinging with every movement. More murmurs ran with each step, more eyes followed her. But they were ignored: She knew that none were more intent than those of the most ancient among them. How calm she felt stole over her with pleasant surprise. The ease brought with it a razor sharp observance that for the first time made note that out of the dozen or so assembled, only she shared her father's eyes.

The hollow sound of Ryce's boots clicking on the stone floor ceased when she reached the chair opposite to Xavius', on her father's left side. She avoided both their eyes, for wildly different reasons.

Her sister was all but naked now, sans make-up or any artificial enhancers. Still, she remained one of the greatest beauties ever laid eyes on. Further still, the only indication that she was more than mere marble statue came from the barely-there trembling of her ice-spun wings.

And for all that beauty, Ryce's haughty expression, a mirror of the condescending look she had given her earlier, made the face's artic-green eyes widen in stupefied hatred.

"Maerwynn…" Ryce said cooly.

The fae didn't reply, nor did she give any indication that she had heard the smaller girl. The potent, icy rage that would have had scores of armies groveling in fear simply made Ryce raise an eyebrow, her previous arrogance increasing tenfold. Before her sister's widened eyes, she swiped her wine goblet and raised it to her lips, sneering daintily.

And then she spoke in English, "Out of my seat, changeling."

Her request was obliged in a heartbeat, and Ryce found herself nearly an inch off the ground, hefted carelessly by her jacket. Maerwynn of Ashen Winter stretched her wings behind her, like a cat arching its back, and her beauteous face had been twisted into a feral snarl, even as her eyes remained impossibly wide, impossibly hateful. Ryce chuckled at the sight, it ruined her beauty: It made her look like D'xias.

She was dimly aware that the entire table had come alive at her words, mad with cries for her blood, her pain and humiliation as punishment for her pretense. Words meant to cripple her, cow her into kneeling tears, as they always had.

They all fell to silence when Ryce's hand gripped Maerwynn's wrist.

And Maerwynn _howled_.

Her ice wings shattered like glass.

She didn't so much release Ryce as she dropped her, scrambling back with the smoking remnants of her once flawless hand cradled against her chest. The skin was cracked and burnt, oozing something of the utmost unpleasantly. The only sounds left in the room were her labored breathing, her whimpers, and gasps as she stared dumbfounded at her ruined limb. When she finally looked up, it was to find an expressionless Ryce pulling out her chair beside Azrael. For all her father seemed to care, he had become enthralled in swirling the contents of his own wine glass and watching it with rapt attention.

"…y…y-you dare…you DARE bring wrought iron against me," she hissed.

Ryce paused for a second to stare at her sister, before smiling indulgently and taking her seat loftily. At the same time, her hand came up and twirled the door's iron knob into the table, making it whirl and clatter like a spinning top, "Now now, we really shouldn't dwell on what I do and don't dare right now. It'll save us a lot of time, Mary"

"_FATHER!_" a creature hissed and clipped. It could have passed for human, were it not for its grotesque body: It was like that of a gigantic, black centipede from the waist down, and a slim man from the waist up – pale and sickly white, a mop of long, ratty black hair half-covering his face, beyond beady, ink-black eyes and a pair of antennae protruding from it. His clicking mandibles twitched with his roar.

As if having a mind of their own, the insectoid body twitched and trampled in fury, his rows of legs climbing over the table and slamming against the ground in a frightening war-march, their sharp points creating deep incisions in the wood and bedrock. His greenish, large fangs frothed as he leaned forwards towards Ryce, who looked no more impressed than before. "Judge it now. Rip the little beast's squalling throat out and crush its skull for this insolence. _This_ is what your kindness has reaped – _She has forgotten her place!_ End this mockery _now!_"

"Cris, jus' shut the fuck _up_, alright?" Ryce sighed, massaging her temples before taking another sip of her wine. "I _jus'_got back, you can't expect me to be able to abide your bullshit again after years of blissful lack of it," she chuckled indulgently, lifting her glass once more, "Learn to pace yourself, br—"

Her goblet shattered. Ryce frowned at the wine dripping from her fingers, and then at the centipede man, who in a flash had moved to tower her with hungry, clicking jaws. "That was rude."

"I am no prancing, glass-made fae, you cow," Cri'ssatiel the EverDrought snarled, ignoring Maerwynn's hateful look. "Your tricks will not work on me. You think to storm here on false pride, childish Lie Weaver? No. You should be crawling on your belly. _You are to beg. _Grovel for your purposeless half-life. _BEG_—"

"Let me return the favor and cut you off right there," Ryce snapped, hopping easily over the table to stand before him, "M'your god damned superior, you bewildered idiot. M'Whom God Helps' ONLY heir. Apparent and second only to _him_;not some bitter, sad association of has-beens tryin' to feel important by calling themselves a 'Council.' I can only hope to one day have the patience father had to humor your imbecilic 'advising' for as long as he has," Ryce laughed at the ripple of angry muttering down the table, and then looked back to her brother, as if surprised. "Are you still here? Get out of my face, mudborne."

A chittering shriek caught between a cricket's song and the screech of some avian raptor ripped out of Cris. For a second, he reared back higher unto his segmented haunches, like a bucking steed. Then with the force of a locomotive he came slamming down into the stone floor where Ryce had stood just prior to it. Chips of stone and granite exploded up into the air, shards flying everywhere and the raining back down unto the gathered council. Had Ryce not hooked her leg into the chair and pulled it out from where it sat against the table, she'd have never been able to leap up unto the stone expanse in time to get out of striking range. Whirling around on her heels there was a zipping sound as her wings burst forth from her back, tearing as her tail lashed out behind her the spines snapping up and down threatening, and she squared her shoulders.

Cris turned twisted at his grotesque hips, whipping the rest of his body about with a violent clattering of legs and crashing of chairs being thrown or trampled under his stampeding mass. Several smaller Council members let out cries of anger or reproach as they leapt up from their seats, lest they join their ruined surroundings. Those who were out of range of damage still shrieked and raged at the girl now standing atop the table, wings held aloft.

"FIGHT me, you cowering BITCH!" he snarled mandibles dripping with substance that hissed when it splattered against the ruined stonework beneath his chitinous body.

"Bring it on you snivelin' ass kiss," Alaryce growled in turn, her left arm raised and leveled with his eyes.

"Gut her, Everdrought!" an older woman cackled, her face hidden by a veil but its silhouette seemingly deformed, "Let us see what her entrails tell us!"

"Gut me?" Ryce laughed manically, silencing the hag, "Please, sister. The only victories this impotent loser can take on anymore are those carved out his own spawnlin's flesh! Lookin' ever so _**thin**_, Big Brother – suppose word of your special diet reaching your ilk did not help the pillow-talks?"

There was sudden snickering from one of the seats, drawing the stares.

The man laughed like a barking hyena, literally so, in that the corners of his mouth peeled back to touch his ears. His shark-like teeth gleamed inside it, but Ryce was not bothered by that and went on to take in the pale goatee that adorned that smile, as well as his Haitian features. He was a bald, old man at a glance, one of the few of this table whose true age was somewhat reflected in their physical appearance. The attention-getter, however, was the missing eye, the dark, scarred socket in its place, and the tiny, orange flame that flickered within it.

But to Ryce, all of this fell into the background, ignored in favor of the way his lone, orange eye – not like D'xias, the pupil was vertical – danced over her in a way that made her uncomfortable. Because, she realized with a start, she saw approval there.

When he spoke, it was with an educated, deep voice, "The simpering rumors of the incubi were true, then. You've grown to acquire strength. Courage. Dare I say, I sense inner pride in your breath," he gave a deep sigh and stood to address his councilmen, who glared down upon him. Still he spoke with no fear, "Now is the time: We have failed to keep her down. If we are to kill her, it must be now, before she gathers more pride. More power."

Ryce heard the words without surprise, her mouth in a thin line. She was, by anyone's count, the one that was taking them best. The angry murmurs were beginning to swell.

"She will only grow more power from now on," the black man continued to the baleful stares. "Potentially powerful enough to overthrow us," the deafening protests started before he had finished talking, and he pursed his lips, speaking over them: "Given enough time, it _will_ happen. That's why we must act now. Whether you believe me or not, it's simply practical," his eyes fell on Cri'ssatiel, and added, as an afterthought, "If nothing else, _you_ should agree with that."

"…I always hated you the least, Saliendr'e. You had enough sense 'bout you to not be a total turnip," Ryce smiled coldly, turning back to Cris. She had left herself exposed long enough.

She quickly noted how Maerwynn's whimpers had stopped and saw her struggling to her feet, her arm nearly whole again. Healing had not been kind on her beauty, making her emaciated and frail, and for a moment Ryce was struck with the sudden familial resemblance her sister bore to her own malnourished self from months ago. But her green eyes were intense and maddening, focused on her with overwhelming hatred. Ryce fought the urge to purr in satisfaction at that look.

On the other, she needn't have bothered: Cri'ssatiel's mandibles clicked angrily, his face a mask of outrage, as he screeched at the old Haitian, "You, newest in our flock, would presume to partake wisdom to your elders? _You speak out of turn, little brother._"

Saliend're, Old Philosopher, considered his elder for a moment. "And that is why I feared you most," he replied, to Ryce, ignoring how this incensed his brothers. "Know this, Alaryce: Where the others acted against you out of anger and malice, I did out of fear. I won't claim to have cared for you, but I didn't hate you, or even _dislike _you. Simply, I saw what you were – what you could become if you were to understand your standing in our world. And so, I sought to keep you from realizing this truth."

"Aye, I realize you're tryin' to make a big melodramatic reveal here, Sally, but I _did_ manage to figure that one out on my own by now."

"…you have, yes," Sal nodded. "And so it's come to this."

But the centipede had had enough of being ignored, "_Have you gone deaf?! _HOLD YOUR TONGUE, or I'll RIP it out, _Philosopher!_"

Sal wisely took note of Cris, and just as wisely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, choosing instead to take his seat. "If that is your wish, brother, I will hold silence. Though if I were to voice mine, it'd be that that same threat has been used at least thrice since her arrival. If it would please the elders to at least be original…" he trailed off, frowning at something past the thing's shoulder.

"And who are _you,_" Panting and groaning, Maerwynn's sickly-sweet voice carried a dry croak when she sneered at Cris, "to make threats 'gainst anyone on this council? To move into, Cri'ssatiel, and once more make a spectacle?"

Across the circular table, agreement was heard from the other beings, each on their own way. Ryce saw that they all seemed agitated and growingly frustrated: This was going like no one thought it would, and it was coming to a boil.

The Heir watched it all, and in it found amusement.

But for Cris, there was only bristling under his peers' reproach and his head snapped to the mummified fae. "I am the one that wasn't reduced to a mewling quim by a doorknob," he reminded in a low growl.

"Instead, you are led rabid by the Lie Weaver's whims!" The fae was quick to bite back, "You salivate in anticipation to crush her brittle, diseased bones in your mouth, obsessing like the mad, pathetic beast you are, _young-killer!_"

Ryce's chuckles were probably the last straw for Cris, "Young-killer," she all but cooed, eyes glittering maliciously behind her glasses, "D'you know, Everdrought, that I was the one to come up with that name? Looks like it spread after a–"

But then Ryce's eyes widened and she dodged to the side, just as Cri'ssatiel spat at her. Instantly the surface of the table hissed violently, melting away under the corrosive substance that was his spit. Maerwynn was not so lucky, the splatter of the acid striking her dead on her face.

Her shriek was birdlike and supersonic, ravaging at Ryce's ears but making her smile, as she clawed at her face in agony, the room's temperature's plummeting. Ryce recalled a time when she had been smaller – she wanted to say twelve. Her hands had been so unsteady then, shaking with tremors left by her 'lessons' that she could no more control than her need to breathe. She had not meant to upend her sister's goblet when passing it to her. In contrast, Maerwynn had been quite deliberate in her response of tossing acid into her face a day later…regardless of her contrary claims to their father. Vengeful satisfaction curled up in her poisonously at the sight of the fae now.

"Sister–" Saliend're's voice was filled with steel, but the ball was already rolling.

"YOU _WORTHLESS MUD-CRAWLER!_" The Lady of Ashen Winter snarled. Her burns quickly healed, and as the cold rose, as the ice formed over her arms in spiked icicles and snow mist flowed from her snarling mouth, her perfect beauty restored, now untouchable, of ice. "_WITH YOUR DEATH, THIS TRIAL WILL RESUME AND IT'LL BE YOUR HUSK WE HANG NEXT TO THE BITC–_"

_**SH-LICK!**_

Her words were cut short by the sharp and deadly leg protruding from her throat. Cris lifted the fae with his appendage, bringing her close to him, enough to lick the blood that tripped down his leg. It froze in his tongue.

"For all its worthlessness," Cris whispered to the new silence, much calmer now than the rabid beast he had been a second ago. Murder, it seemed, was Cris' tension reliever, "Even the Lie Weaver knew better than to stand too close."

And then Cris plucked his leg back, leaving the fae's body to fall lifelessly to the ground with a hole, the size on an orange, in the middle of her neck, pouring out blood and winter mist.

At the table's head, Azrael gave an all-too-convincing yawn and leaned back in his chair, apparently dozing while his daughter died.

The centipede turned to Saliend're, daring him to speak. The Philosopher didn't rise to the bait.

Whether this was a submission on his part wasn't clear, as another voice spoke: "This is what we gather for? Mindless bickering and posturing?"

It was a woman of translucent, glowing skin, inhuman organs plainly visible for all to see. She was naked, and beyond her dead-fish eyes and hair like jellyifish tentacles, she was somehow easy to overlook. "Reduced to squealing children…tricked to sit idly while she plays her games, when we know all of them by now. You ridicule us all, Cri'ssatiel," her voice was like the crackle of dead leaves and the suction of a boot being pulled from the mud.

Chri'ssatiel scowled and replied, but Ryce was dimly aware of what he said, looking at Maerwynn's wrecked body, broken and almost sad. She noted how the group, as a whole, renewed their in-fighting, ignoring their downed sister.

Maybe she could take the chance.

Run, out the door. Would she make it?

…No. She wouldn't. Though they fought, Ryce saw that many had yet to actually say anything, simply watching her. Waiting. Daring.

It was a brief entertainment, but one of no substance.

So she spoke again, her hushed tone carrying even as they continued their squalling.

"D'you know," she began, "that when they first heard of D'xias and his intent, the goals they could never grasp, humanity believed him the rejected, worst we have to offer?" she didn't know when they had begun listening, but they all were now. "They think it won't get worse than him, and that the rest of us would never dream of doing what he did. No matter how evil the rest of my family is, D'xias s'erasin' universes. He has to be worse. They really believed that."

With a sudden, choking gasp and to no one's surprise, Maerwynn pushed herself to all fours, retching and choking. The chill of the room seem to suck into her, and, slowly, ice and snow plugged her wound.

"They believed we were better than D'xias, the tantrum-child that didn't get what he thought his due and so went on a rampage," Ryce continued, quiet and melancholic. "Not one of them, no matter where I went, considered the possibility that…he s'tryin' to _prove _himself to the rest of us. That he could do what we—what _**you**_ wanted, but didn't dare to act," and she sighed, remembering the foulest place she had been to on Earth. "That s'why, in the end, humanity s'better than us."

Maerwynn looked over her shoulder to her, and though her beauty remained, her eyes were livid. Ryce ignored her.

"…for those words alone, you will face the axe," Cris smiled.

The accused didn't say anything for a few seconds, seemingly lost in her own mind. Plummeting down into that all-too-old stare centered on her Fae sister's neck. She finally broke it, coming out of it like one awakening from a dream. When she turned to Cris, she snorted bitterly. "Tall order, worm."

Something had shifted in the Lie Weaver. Even as Cri'ssatiel stiffened in rage, the rest took note of the air around their youngest. Where there had been mockery and dark amusement, something new had crawled into place. It was now gone, replaced with hostility, with _condescension_. The Halfing was looking down upon them,

With the insane idea that, somehow, impossibly, despite the hilarious difference between their powers, she was_ done humoring them_.

Of those that noticed, only Saliend're felt apprehension.

Cris didn't. He felt his siblings' approaching boiling point rage, "_Sniveling co–_"

Ryce's metal fist cracked the ground between them. "NO."

It was uncertain why this froze everyone the way it did. All movement, even breathing, stilled. For a moment, the only sound was the soft pattering of debris as Ryce lifted her fist from the crater she had created in the floor. Azrael himself slowly opened his eyes, finally absorbing his surroundings. He spared his youngest a glance, and then, with a sigh, reached under his table to pour himself a glass of wine

Never before had she struck them mute. Perhaps it was because most of the councilmen noticed, for the first time, that Ryce's arm was now cybernetic. Perhaps it was how out of character it seemed for her to engage in physical displays, or really _any _displays in general.

Perhaps it was the look in her eyes.

The look of the Judge.

"D'xias s'_**dead**_," the Judg—the Lie Weaver snarled, "_**I **_killed him. He sought to stand b'fore me, to threaten me and mine. Do you comprehend what his declarations of war earned him? The Void Walker thrashed and squealed for mercy _when he was trampled under my boot._"

The numb silence wore on. Her claims were known to all, but still the rattled them in some unconscious way, because…

Because up until this point, none of them had—

"So tangled were you, so anticipant, so _eager _to finally have excuse to spill my blood. So enthralled to balm your wounded, overblown egos," Ryce was saying, her eyes shining madly, "did only _one _of you stop for a second to think about what this _meant?_"

The bristling was starting. A hushed murmur of the coming , not even fully healed, was standing, eyes focused on her blasphemous tongue.

Ryce sneered, brushing past her. "T'day, I turned eighteen. And in two years I've accomplished more than any of you have in your whole sorry existence. Who are you, then, to threaten me?"

She didn't wince at the roars that met her question. Didn't blink at the raw power, like a blazing sun, that smacked her in the face. This council of killers, backstabbers and in-fighters, sitting on their fat asses and gorging in their false power. They had no power over her. They never had. Some feet away Maerwynn's reformed wings were shuddering, the room's temperature dropping with her impending strike.

Without batting an eye, she retrieved the forgotten doorknob from the table and pelted Maerwynn in the forehead with it. The cold that had been building up receded, the screams halted – all but hers, as she shrieked at the crippling poison. Under any other circumstance, it would have been hilarious.

"I! _AM! __**TALKIN'!**_" Ryce roared into the silence, jumping on top of the executioner's block, as if it were a pedestal. They were all forced to look up at her, and she down upon them, "WHO ARE YOU TO ME? What fear should I have of ANY OF YOU?"

At that moment, they finally saw what was happening. They had been blinded and it was only now dawning on most of them that their control of the situation was lost. That this being before them, who had silenced them again and again, who hadn't cowed but instead _roared_. She had the control. Why hadn't she been smacked down? Why did she go on speaking? Why did they only protest and not tear her to pieces?

Their father: He might have intervened. But was that enough? She was to die, regardless. But she hadn't acted in any way they expected. She had left them bewildered and unprepared. Saliend're's warning spoke of such ideas. The Old Philosopher's ludicrous and blasphemous claims in the years past of the girl's potential finally coming into their own sights. And it had dragged on, until she, indeed, held control – until death.

It was a maddening realization.

"I have faced down that which came from Without. _WHO ARE YOU TO THREATEN ME?_"

On the last word, Ryce stumbled. She faltered upon her throne and nearly toppled down from where she dared try to crow above them as nearly all the moisture left her mouth. Her skin began to pale and then gray, retracting against sinew and bone. Her wheat colored hair began to dry and grow brittle against her head even as her eyes snapped to Cris, no less defiant, but it was Maerwynn that spoke.

"We are not the helpless, incompetent abomination that D'xias was," the Ashen Winter said in a mad whisper. There was something about a mouse standing up to a cat that drove the cat over the edge. Ryce stared without blinking. So often that same edge made the cat very, _very _stupid.

"The abortion, so eager to please, was _nothing_," Everdrought snarled. Their hatred for one another was legendary, but at that moment, their hatred for Ryce trumped it easily. "He stumbled into broken power…and deluded himself with greatness by eradicating ants. He is no prize to hold over your head."

"Your—jealousy, it's—showing—dear—siblings," Ryce chuckled hoarsely, her eyes dancing upon the pair. Her lips cracked as she grinned. Blood was dripping from the corner of her mouth, but she didn't care or really seem to notice.

"_JEALOUSY?!_" Maerwynn shrieked with chilled fury that closed on Ryce's lungs, making her collapse to her knees, wobbling not to fall from her 'seat'. "Despite assistance, it could not kill a _single pregnant whore!_"

Something odd threatened to break the fugue of her fury, but it wasn't until she saw Ryce's smile that she noticed.

"Assistance…from whom?" The Lie Weaver spat through her pain.

At once, the cold grip slipped from her, leaking from the room in as sudden of a rush as it arrived. Cri'ssatiel's own influence had long since been banished at her words, and he had slowly turned to stare at the fae. It left Ryce free to laugh.

"O-Oh my…" she said between breaths. "You…are jus' makin' it…_so easy_."

Again, control had left the council at the table, but this time, in the silence, there was something they all acknowledged to fear – the thing that Maerwynn's rage had almost overlooked. It was now all too clear, to her and the Council. It physically seared into them in a bladder-loosening terror.

And at the head of a table, there was the soft, screeching sound of wood carving up into curls under nails.

* * *

They moved as a unit.

If nothing the years of being together had taught them at the very least how to do that. Noel aided Tim in packing his heaviest artillery into his belt. Cyborg and Nigel were snapping weapons and armor into place, discarding what could not easily be carried. Starfire sat before Raven turning the pages of an ancient tome to ensure the hald-demon's hands and mind were free to focus on the spell at hand.

Even those Titans who remained still were far from simply loitering. No, they were preparing the only things they could, themselves. They had seen the horrors of D'xias. They had looked into the maddening void he had pieced himself together from. What awaited them beyond the doorway Raven would within the hour open would be perhaps more of the very same.

Most likely it would be worse.

In the center of the room Raven continued to chant and breath, blocking out the watching gazes of her friends and family. All she heard was the steady thrum of her words. All she felt was the power pulsing over her in waves. It roiled off of the circle she had chalked into the floor.

Five points of the circle hummed glowing black. In one corner sat one of the cigarettes Metatron had given her. For smell. In another for taste, one of the strawberries plucked from her forgotten birthday cake. The other three were occupied by an old pair of her glasses for sight, a use-worn Rocky Horror CD, and finally one of her feathers and a quill from her tail for touch. Five senses…all Ryce. Raven wove herself into them and reached out for the girl.

In the center of it all, the Orb hovered and swirled. Raven tried to ignore how its depths remained their stagnant gray.

She kept chanting.

* * *

"…F-father…" Maevrynn whispered, keepin her gaze down. "We…were not to intervene – h-her trial…"

Only three would have dared look at Azrael at this moment: Xavius, who instead kept his gaze in the fae; Saliend're, who observed them all, his eyes blazing with new information and possibilities; and Ryce, who watched him for a sign, _any _sign…

The archangel stared at the Ashen Winter, his eyes quietly half-lidded and seemingly disinterested. He swirled his glass, spiraling the wine within, and hummed an old tune. They all could feel the façade that stare was. Like alley-cats before an oncoming storm, they crouched before him with nowhere to bolt and hide.

"You fool!" the Hag suddenly snarled at the fae, the face beneath the veil contorting terribly, and odd greenish light smoldering were her mouth should be, "Empty-headed harlot! _What have you don–?_"

But even her words fizzled down into sputtering, breathless sounds when her father's gaze fell on her instead. Whatever that fire was, it, too, died out.

"FATHER!" Cri'ssatiel squeals, he twitched to maintain eye contact with Azrael, a struggle that had him seeming as if he were about to explode, or bolt, or even attack his father, "of all your rules, father, the one you have impressed on us the most was to never interfere with a mortal's"–the fact that he never used such 'kind' terms for humans was not lost on Ryce–"Trial. Whatever we may or may not have known, our hands were tied: We could not intervene, lest we disobeyed you! Do not allow yourself to be blinded from the truth!"

Azrael stared at his son as one would a stranger.

The monstrous centipede hissed and clicked, edging away from that stare.

"The truth?"

The Everdrought's desperate, mad eye fell on Alaryce, Lie Weaver of the Will.

He had never before seen the expression in her face, her smile, the mock and the triumph he held for her.

"You lot ran off to daddy whenever I slightly disobeyed his little laws, yet when D'xias attacked my mother – the woman you all despised, m'I right? – you knew to give him a hand here and there," Ryce chuckled gently, almost fondly. "S'that your truth, Cri'ssatiel?"

He just stared at her.

"'Cause I gotta tell ya, brother…If you believe bringing that to light s'in your best interest, you…are _so _defective," the smile melted off her face, and she ignored the pair of green eyes that snapped to her in warning. "No wonder your own mother preferred to keel over than bother with barin' you. Is that why you helped kill mine? A little projected vengeance?"

It was too fast for her eyes to see. Perhaps, if she were feeling generous with herself, she could have claimed to have spotted the barest hint of a blur, of the death that came for her. The next instant, however, her vision was blocked by a large, wide, familiar back.

The Marine had moved, and before him, the might of the Council sucked their breath. All but The Everdrought, fallen prey to his own bloodlust. Xavius did nothing but restrain him, even as the creature hissed in unholy fury, as it trashed and clawed from his sides, trying to reach her, _shred her_.

Ryce would have never been able to stop that attack, she knew. She would have been killed.

She didn't show it, she didn't back away. "Touched a nerve, have I?"

"_YOU VAPID __GUTTER TRAMP__!_ YOU WILL NOT SURVIVE THE DAY! YOU WILL NEVER SEE YOUR HUMAN CATTLE, _**YOUR DEMON PET!**__ AND IT IS THEM WHO WILL SUFFER FOR TODAY! It is __**THEM**__ I'll seek!_"

Ryce paused, raising an expectant eyebrow. She had the air of someone waiting for something, perhaps a bus.

"F-father…I wished to tell you," Maerwynn suddenly hissed, "It was Cri'ssatiel and his ilk who forced my silence! Look at him! See what a beast he is!"

And then Ryce grinned at the shocked centipede as the bus arrived and their sister tossed them all right under it.

"_**YOU WHORE!**_" Cris roared, and the table roared with him, slamming their fists in fury, insults and denials. The entire room descended into a pandemonius din of furious shrieks, accusations and denials. It was almost musical. In the commotion, Ryce's hand touched Xavius' arm, looking up at him.

"SHE _**LIES,**_ FATHER! LIES WITH HER SLUT, FORKED TONGUE! YOU KNOW OF HER KIND! LENT IT NOT YOUR EAR!" Cris was frothing at the mouth now, having pushed away from Xavius to tower over the fae in a frightening manner. The Marine didn't make a move to intervene, staring down at his sister. Even standing on the block, Ryce found herself shorter still, by at least a head.

Word by word, snarl by snarl, and insults, and threats, and violence. The room around them dissolved, robbed of its already shaky control and lost into chaos.

Amongst that chaos, only six remained quiet.

"…Thanks for that."

Five.

The Marine didn't reply, exactly, but he grunted, stoically observing her.

"Jus'…" Ryce said quietly. Her brother was so tall, his eyes were so clear, and carried such quiet strength. "…Thank you."

She remembered all-too-well now, why she'd gone out of her way to avoid looking at him, and turned back to the mad Council, blinking repeatedly. She had to chuckle at their petty fights. It was what she'd rather focus on. It was easier to handle.

"You should go back to dad."

The Soldier lingered. She could tell his eyes were still on her, even if she made a point not to meet them. She wondered what he might say, if he were more vocal – he clearly wanted to say something. Maybe she should too. Maybe they had both been far too quiet for far too long. Left things unsaid that should never go without a voice, even if it is only a whisper.

But her brother turned, silently obeying her.

He had taken maybe two steps before Ryce was suddenly aware of a sharp pain in the back of her neck, of her pedestal being swept from under her feet. The undeniable force lifted her, somehow sneaking beneath her notice, beneath Xavius', in the midst of the chaos. The throne became an executioner's block once more as her face was slammed into it and effortlessly paralyzed. Her rattled mind pictured a stuffed turkey to be devoured, a hungry family at Thanksgiving gathering around it. And the one with the knife to slice the meat with…

"This circus is over," said the quiet, dripping voice.

Air rushed from her lungs in a gusting grunt as he squeezed. For a moment, her body wanted to cry out in pain but the memories of D'xias thrashing stilled her lips. Really…this wasn't so bad. All her cowering and posturing over the endless years of her life. Had she always been such a coward about _**this**_?

Relaxing her limbs, she laid flat on her belly hands splayed out. The Lie Weaver even now. The Opossum. Her tail sprawled like a dead snake draped over one leg trailing behind her, the tip having fallen beneath the fold of her jacket. Playing dead was an old oft-used trick.

"We have allowed the Lie Weaver to spin her web further, using the Everdrought's pathetic urgers as her personal _toy_ to kick and scream at every opportunity. Making us tools in her desperate quest to extend her own life further, a few seconds at a time. No more," the deep voice whispers, as blazing blue eyes come into view – not blue like hers or her father's, no: Only she inherited those. Blue like sapphires.

He was a muscular being, not quite on Xavius' level, but close. His skin was of a faded gold, and though his face was human enough, the way his pristine hair framed it as well as its features, gave the distinct impression of a lion of some sort. Similarly pristine wings spread over his back, much like Ryce's, probably indicating he, too, was agitated. No one would call this creature beautiful, but there was a certain allure of the exotic, of the hunt. Of intelligent controlled savagery.

His head twitched, as if to shake an irksome fly in his nose, and he spoke. "We begin the trial now."

Ryce heard knuckles pop and knew that Xavius had never made it to his seat in the commotion.

"Restrain the little beast," The translucent woman whispered in her empty voice. "Bind the Weaver's tongue b'fore she can make mockery of our court again."

"…S'hardly a trial if I cannot defend myself," Ryce felt the need to point out, closing her eyes. This was it.

"I have no sympathy if you did not take the time we graciously gave you to prepare your defense," the lion-thing replies, holding her in place. "Father, it is time to begin."

Oddly…it was not a request. It was as close to a demand as any of the Council had made of their father.

"Make your bid, Lie Weaver," growled her captor. "After your spectacle…ten words or less, if you can manage."

The seconds ticked, and Ryce sighed deeply. Nothing left. The Lie Weaver talked and stalled. But that time was done.

"You were right," she whispered, counting off her fingers. "I _was _stallin'."

And then her tail snapped out like a spring, her quills raking against the lion's face. As the thing reared his head back and roared in agony, he let go. Ryce jumped up, free, and knew what she needed to do now, how she wanted to go out, but, above all…

"**M'GOIN' TO LIVE.**"

The shocked silence didn't last as long as she would have liked, this time.

"…The sentence," Cri'ssatiel replied, dark happiness blooming in his face, "is **DEATH.**"

And he shot towards her.

Ryce grinned the way only those who have absolutely nothing left to lose can. If she were to be asked, when she stood before Judgment, what she thought of this moment, Ryce would say that Cris's expression right when he realized she was going to shoot him in the face was no terrible last sight to see. The sound of him crashing into the far wall wasn't a bad sound either.

As her smoking hand fell dead at her side, a small compartment popped out automatically to reveal a Fang blade, which she seized and, in a fluid movement she wished Noel could see, twirled to stab into Lionface's chest as he tried to close in. She grinned at his roar, and leapt back, noting the dead weight of her now-black metal arm.

But that was fine. Like she told Met: She had two.

She saw Cris trample to his 'feet' and look to her in blatant disbelief. His face was smoked and scorching, and his eyes were bloodshot. The incoherent rage in his features edged her off to say something detrimental to her survival efforts.

"Cris, you…got a li'l somethin' on your face right there."

The screech nearly burst her sensitive eardrums, and she almost fell back as her brother launched towards her like the dragons of old, blindingly fast. The rest of the Council moved to follow, all pretense of decorum lost.

Yet her father looked no less interested than before.

Ryce shut her mind from that, moving to stab Cris' eye, only for her hand to be stilled by sudden tendrils of ice – the spectral form of Maewrynn seized the chance.

"…still standin'," she snarled and flayed her tail into Maerwynn's eyes–

–and Cris knocked her arm to the side, and she was unable to recover as he crashed into her like a van, pinning her to the ground, pincers already tearing into her face–she had really hoped to last longer–

–the giant hand seized Cris by the head with a thunderous crack, followed by X hurling him onto the unsuspecting oncoming army of hatred.

"RUN," he yelled to his sister, brandishing his warhammer.

Ryce coughed, rolling to her feet, wondering why she wasn't surprised by Xavius. But, her fogged mind told her, it would be stupid to be. Her eyes flashed, and she didn't need to voice her answer, tightening her grip on the jagged shard.

"…" Xavius swung his weapon onto the ground, with flash and thunder, and split the room between Ryce, him, and the still-recovering army. A literal line in the sand, which swept everyone but him off his feet. "…You idiot girl," he muttered quietly while Ryce took the chance to gather herself. "If you die, it's all for nothing."

"I know," the small girl chuckled. "S'not like I _want_ to die. M'fightin' to live. …I wouldn't get far if I ran anyway, not with my leaving you behind."

Her brother – her _only_ brother – was silent.

"_SOLDIER!_"

The Lion-beast's voice cut through the suffocating presence of Xavius' power. To his side, Cri'ssatiel's body whipped furiously into the concrete, cracking it in what could have been seen as a show of one-upping his older brother. The monsters from Ryce's childhood nightmares rallied behind the lion's strength and the centipede's madness, muting the room. All the boogeyman from under the bed, beyond the door, and in the closet come out to play

"You were _warned _against this course, _brother_," the Nameless Lion growled lowly, "There will be no going back if you proceed – your chair will be mine by the morrow."

Xavius did not reply. Or perhaps, Ryce noticed, his lack of it was reply enough, giving the nervous tittering among the younger of the monsters. The Lion chuckled eagerly, his mane-like hair bristling at ends in preparation, "Not even you can stand against the might of the Council of the Judge."

The mighty hammer flashed forward and, with a thunderous crack, reduced the lion's face to gore.

"That," Xavius said calmly, his war hammer gliding back into his awaiting hand, "is debatable."

In a second, one of the strongest in their midst had fallen.

Their roar _**was**_ music, Ryce thought.

"FATHER!" The Hag yelled, her shadowed features distorting behind her black veil, "How _long _will you allow this farce to continue?! STEP IN, SHOW YOUR MISBEHAVING CHILD THE FOLLY OF HIS DEFIANCE!"

Azrael seemed to not have heard her, or even been aware of his surroundings. From the beginning, he had been transfixed by the contents of his swirling goblet, and nothing more, and now was no different. In fact, he lifted a well manicured nail to pick at something between his teeth.

"…_**FATHER!**_"

"…Hm?" The ancient being finally replied tiredly, all without looking away from his wine. "…S'the trial _still _going on, dears? My, I'd have thought you could take care of somethin' as simple as this."

The Hag started, as if slapped.

"I suppose they are still countin' on daddy to come in and take care of the big, bad eighteen-year-old heir for them," Ryce chimed in nastily, noting how Xavius straightened to her words.

Without the Lion to lead them, it fell for the Council to rally behind the Centipede's madness, and Cri'ssatiel wasted no time, trampling forward with a roar.

"…Can you pick out the one word there you probably should not have said?" the Marine said somberly, moving subtly to stand in front of her.

"They're tryin' to kill me," Ryce sneered, staring unflinchingly unto the furious brood. "S'not goin' to happen on their prissy terms."

The dam broke, and her family came for her.

Azrael silently mused, losing interest as the clash began. Despite the furious power thrown in all directions, he seemed distracted, as if listening to a faraway conversation. His eyes flickered this way and that, never remaining still behind her half closed eyelids.

* * *

"It's time."

Tension skittered out over the Titans and fell off of their shoulders. They lined up around Raven in wait. No one else spoke knowing that doing so would only provide the sorceress with unneeded distraction. No. Concentration was key now. It was the only thing now.

"Shut your eyes," the empath's tone was deceptively serene and calm. Focused on no other thought or task then the hole she was preparing to rip open, "We will come out on the other side. Look nothing in the eye. Do not take ANYTHING you are offered and listen to nothing you are told. They will lie and they will steal. I can feel the unrest even from here. They mean to keep her."

"Ready when you are, Raven," Robin was the only one to speak beside her.

"Azarath."

First pressure. Then wind. Finally whisper.

"Metrion."

The air before Raven began to thin. It was as if she could punch a hand right through it to the other side if she tried. The heat and rumble of battle pulsed off of her through that thin membrane. Slowly, she opened her violet eyes to tear through the fabric with one final word.

"Zinth-"

Her gaze locked with the ancient yellowed corneas and blue depth of Azrael's eyes. Her breath caught with the realization that this was no sight leaking out from beyond the scope of their world. He was standing in the room with them. He was aiming his cane and cradling it as one would a pool cue. The final word of the spell failed on her lips as the tip of the walking stick crashed through her circle and into the Orb like an oversized cue ball.

The circle broke.

The thin air snapped back into place.

The Orb rolled heavily to Raven's feet and lay there as she stared at the ancient being.

"...Sorry Raven. We all have to scratch on the break sometimes."

...they had failed...

* * *

There was something beautiful about angels at war. Horrifying, true, but breathtaking and beautiful all the same. It was a sight that would drive men mad, inspire them, break them, make them fall in love, and bring them to tears.

Ryce was no exception. Her brother was beautiful.

Her brother was a force of nature, a blazing sun that she made sure not to stare directly at: To witness his true, terrible power would have shattered even her.

At that moment, the idea that her days – hours, minutes – were numbered seemed like a fool's musing. As the Soldier quaked and thundered, his hammer swinging with the might that had mystified the Norse into making him a deity, intimidated her siblings, and forced them back en mass while they tried to overwhelm him…there was hope.

Good God. She might actually pull this off.

…She would give anything to be the sort of person who could hang on to an idea like that.

But, she couldn't. As she danced and stabbed at the few that managed to get past Xavius (her brother could only do so much), she was ever aware of his eyes on her, and it sent a terrible chill down her spine. With a snarling smile, her left eye hummed brightly, something heavy and thrumming with unloving venom thundered next to her. Shapeless, it swiped some sort of limb crashing it into the hag's hideously cracked and creased face.

But her attention never wavered from Saliend're.

The Old Haitian hadn't moved with his brethren, he was not one for mob mentality. He remained where he had been from the start: On his seat, his back always near an exit.

Observing her.

A part of her wanted to fill his face with spines, but a bigger, much wiser, part stilled her tail, whipping it across a ghoul's face instead.

Saliend're. Pragmatism personified.

Her every sibling craved her blood, but not him. He neither wanted it, nor abhorred it. It was almost offensive how much he simply did not _care. _If he stepped in, it would be because he saw an opening that cost him nothing and in one quick stab, she would be dead. Her blood spilt. Nothing more…nothing less

For the glory. For the bragging rights. Not for the mad hatred.

She didn't know which motivation sounded more preferable from her murderer.

But so long as she kept focus on him, she wouldn't have to find out. And as long as Xavius could keep things one-on-one for her, she could keep focus on him. She loved just how fragile that sort of plan was.

Those were the last coherent thoughts she had before things devolved into a tiring, violent blur. From that point, nightmarish creatures came at her from all sides, and she met them head-on with claw and shard, tail and fang, shade and banter.

The shard was lost quickly, when she plunged it into the jaw of the Forest Eve. Ryce knew that would not kill her, but it repelled her all the same, and with her, the shard still in her head. One defense down.

For Maerwynn, who in her rage had become more of a rabid jungle cat than the beauty she once was, Ryce raked her tail across her face. Her piercing howl was well worth the two gashes along her chest that she herself got as a result. So many spines went the way of the shard. Two defenses, then.

For the Silent Duke, an enormous shade. For the Herald, her fangs on his face. For the Red Vizier, a coiling noose around his neck. For the Hollow Man, it was back to shades.

For the Walker, for the Roman, For the Bloodrun, for the Blackborn…

…_there's so many…_

With a scream, she sent her shade construct plowing into a sibling's lower half, just as another came from her right, fast, too fast for her to counter in time…

An unseen force, like a leash on a misbehaved dog, choked the being and reeled it back to the awaiting Xavius's hammer, where the fate that befell the Lion awaited it. Her brother somehow knew when she wouldn't be quick enough.

Ryce panted, dimly aware of the hot, ember burning in the center of her brain, the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. Time was short. She was pulling too hard and too fast on her still-recovering body.

And then, she topped backwards, almost falling onto the thin sheet of black ice that had replaced her foothold. She heard Maerwynn's cold laughter, and her eye flared to life, ignoring the nosebleed the followed.

The discarded doorknob soared onwards and lodged itself into the fae's open mouth.

"Top-shelf prize for Alaryce," she chuckled insanely with her sister's choked screams. The bitch was a joke if she didn't get the chance to work her mojo.

That was when the dread hit her.

She'd never even thought about it when she'd done it but…

_Where is Saliend're?_

When she looked up frantically, it was to her brother, still standing in his spot, staring at her. Their eyes meet for a second, and his eyebrows lift in a casual, expectant way, before he broke the stare and looked down beside her.

Where her discarded fang shard laid.

It hadn't been there before.

Salien're raised an eyebrow. _Well? _

Ryce didn't bother questioning it. Her tail coiled around a ruined chair leg and yanked it towards her, forcing the shard into it as a makeshift spear, before turning and swinging into a sibling's face.

"You can't sneak up on me," she growled as it flailed away. "I spent years sneakin' around _you_."

She fought on.

But in doing so, a different kind of dread started creeping up on her.

Her brother, too, fought on.

But he was no longer a raging storm her eyes tore up to behold.

His legs were shackled with black ice, slowly climbing up, fighting to consume him. His clothes were haggard and burnt, his face riddled with frostbite and cuts, his hands purpling and bloody, a dozen blades wedged into his body. His movements were still powerful, fast. Deadly. Yet, somehow, clunky, and lagging. The grace in his movements slowing just a tad. The storm was dying.

A tendril wrapped around his neck, like a leash, sparkling with lightning, as another one of her siblings tried to subdue the behemoth. Xavius responded by whipping his head, sending the attacker – the woman with the dead eyes, whose jellyfish hair was the leash – crashing against the wall.

But she held on, burning him.

At that moment, all Ryce knew was hatred, and rage, and there was no thought to her own survival.

With a roar, she brandished her improvised weapon and dove into the fray. With her muscles screaming with the effort, she brought the embedded shard down on the tendril. There was a boom like thunder, a flash that blinded everyone. Ryce felt the tendril snap in half a second before she was soaring across the room, crashing on the wall next to her abstaining brother, and falling in a complete daze.

"…I'd like to tag out now, thank you," Ryce groaned, blood staining her teeth unpleasantly.

She spoke to no one, but Saliend're looked down to her, calculative.

The room spun, and the boom had left her mostly deaf, with little more than a shrill ring and a vague echo in her ears. Still, it only took her a second to realize that the fight continued without her. She could feel it in the air.

She braced herself against the wall to get to her feet. Her legs trembled as she stumbled away from the wall, and her back sung with agony, reminding her of Rob and his weeks in the med-bay. _You're going to live to tell him you know his pain_, some delusional voice murmured in comfort, while the rest of her fought to make sense of the chaos that was the rest of the Council.

The balance had shifted.

The monsters and Xavius clashed, and it was Xavius that was losing ground. He roared in defiance, she could see that now, even if she couldn't hear it, and they roared back, more than likely cursing and insulting him in every language they knew. However their rage now came with just a flickering hope of triumph.

Her brother fought in return; quick to silence one of the decriers, yet another stabbed him in the gut with a long sword, only to lose its head to his hammer. Xavius stumbled back, sword still lodged.

That was how Cri'ssatiel caught him, in the end, pressing the advantage and tackling Xavius against the wall, cracking the ancient bedrock under their power. In a second, the Centipede was pinning him, his long, grotesque body wrapping around the Soldier.

"…no…" Ryce wheezed, but no one heard her.

And as one, ice crept up over his body, plants and roots tangling over him, the lightning tendril recaptured him. In a deliberate move, the Council continued to pour their power onto their old leader, and even as he tried to wrestle himself free, Cri'ssatiel reared his head back and howled in a display of macabre pincers and fangs. Ryce was still deaf, she could not hear him, but the meaning was clear.

Victory.

Something inside Ryce went out, and suddenly she felt very cold.

Cris' horrific mandibles bit down on his prey's neck.

She was dazed – she probably had a concussion – but she needed to fight, and couldn't…think, much less…she needed…help…

Her eyes found her father's. She had caught him in the act of pouring himself another glass, an act so disinterested and detached, as if his children weren't going mad before him. As if his oldest wasn't dying.

_("…there's something wrong in you, Ryce.")_

As if the Soldier's struggles weren't weakening, his flesh wasn't losing color, his proud battlecry wasn't fading.

"…Please…"

She had no way of knowing how loud her plea had been in the chaos. But he had heard her all the same. Azrael raised an eyebrow at her, as if curious of her actions. A new trick of an interesting puppy. And like a puppy, he simply chuckled in a '_oh, what a silly thing_' way, and turned to the show.

And, from X's limp, pale fingers, the hammer slipped into the ground. It cracked a spider's web into the stone, and with it, the struggles died.

_("…I know. But…B-But I think m'better, **now**.")_

"…I was wrong," Ryce heard herself say.

Maybe she was heard, as Cri'ssatiel's head snapped up from his meal, his mandibles dripping, to look at her. He wasn't the only one.

But more likely, they simply saw her arm held up towards them her wings haloed out around her.

She thought she said to get off him, but would never be certain, as something in the ground beneath them surged forward with a racket, upheaving the dense rock in a beeline. Upon reaching the Everdrought, the ground exploded.

Something black, pulsating and grotesque shot out and ripped him from Xavius, slamming the giant into the ground and impaling his long body. It twitched, a twisted abomination of her shades, trampling over any of the council that got to close, and burning them terribly, forcing them to keep their distance, especially those trying to keep the Soldier bound.

The black hurt to see – it was almost too much to bare. Unspeakable colors heaved in its bulk…impossible, non-Euclidean shapes. But the sight of the Everdrought writhing under it made it so.

Cris looked to her, his own eyes were feverish and thick, his expression tense. There was pain in him, she could see it. The air stank with it so heavily she could perhaps even taste it. But most of all, there was…fear. A primal urge of a cornered mouse facing a smiling cat.

Though her breath was ragged, and her arm was shivering, Ryce found that she liked it. She wanted to smile – but all her mouth produced was a hateful, bleating sort of scream, a foreign, inhuman noise that she felt tear at her far-too-stretched lips. It filled her mouth with a tar-like spittle, dripping out to her chin, and sent her heart hammering beneath her eyes.

It sounded like D'xias.

His own breath was ragged, but the Everdrought's fear was swallowed. Replaced with hate.

And he spoke in a language Ryce had never heard before, should not have been able to hear, but understood perfectly:

"_**You know not what you wield.**_"

Ryce let her arm fall: It was just too heavy. She was just too tired.

At once, Cri'ssatiel's body wrapped around the black construct, and, with a hiss, shattered it like glass. She could only wince.

"Keep him restrained," he growled to the four jailing his weakened brother – oh, she could definitely hear now, that was nice – and trampled towards her, a parade of monsters and nightmares falling into step behind him.

There was finally an air of finality to the room.

Without thinking, Ryce took a step back. She hated herself for doing it, but it didn't stop her legs, her shaking, tired legs that could barely hold her up anymore, from backing away. She only did stop when her back bumped into someone.

Her panicked eyes found Saliend're's, and for an eternity, they just looked at each other, with the bogeymen ever encroaching. Her brother's eyes were calm as they looked for something in her, something important. And then, he sighed.

She could hear his voice in her head, _Out of tricks, eh, Alaryce?_

And she knew.

Before she could think to do anything, he pushed her forward.

She would never forget that push. A gentle, delicate nudge on her back, edging her forward a few steps – almost like an encouraging pat to give the incentive needed to face a hard-but-doable challenge.

And then the monsters had her.

And as she drowned in their hatred, it was over.

She was pushed and pulled from all directions, in a haze of screams and pain. They had her. The monsters had her. Oh God,_ they had her._

She felt herself being dragged, by Cris, among the cheers and the spits, and from the corner of her eye, she saw executioner's block – no longer her throne, it neverwas – drawing nearer.

When her face was slammed into it, her world exploded in blinding pain.

And with it, came the loudest, most triumphant cheer her siblings had yet to produce. Ryce's rattled mind could barely focus, barely remain conscious, but she was still absurdly reminded of the song, _Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead_.

"I hope whatever your next move is, brother," she heard Saliend're say, "is a more decisive one."

The cheers died down, and after a second, Cri'ssatiel came to view. He towered over her, now more than ever, and his hatred was just as potent, but for a second, Ryce thought that despite their triumph, despite the cheer, he looked rattled. Maybe they all did. Or maybe she just imagined it, with her tired mind and her swollen eye.

If she didn't, it hardly mattered: The look was gone, replaced by his usual sneer. He turned her back on her and trampled away. Ryce followed him with her eyes, one of which she couldn't really see out of.

But when she saw the Everdrought approaching her captive brother, it almost gave her enough strength to fight again.

…But not quite. That well was dry. Her limbs kept shivering uselessly.

Cri'ssatiel grinned nastily at her, knowing what she had just tried, and turned to address Xavius.

"She tapped into the Vineyard for you," he whispered quietly. "She touched Her dark trees, for a chance to help. Look at her now. She can't even move. Do you wonder, maybe, if she had just chosen to run, would she have escaped? Instead of this?"

The bound behemoth didn't respond, but his captors chuckled darkly.

"The answer is no, we'd have caught her easily," the Centipede answered himself. "…But it really makes you think, doesn't it?"

This time, X replied, in a quiet, steel tone, "Know this, worm: Come what may, I will end your world in screams if you lay a hand on my sister."

Pale and weakened, Xavius' words carried in them power, and truth, a promise of his already returning power – that was the thing about him: His healing was much faster than Ryce's. Some people get all the breaks.

Something like that might have caused unease in the Council at any other time, but Cri'ssatiel only responded by snarling at Xavius, acidic spit burning his face at contact.

"Oh, I'll heed your advice, _**deserter**_," he growled. "It won't be my power that will end your precious mongrel pet."

His hind-legs reared up, carrying in them the discarded, arcane war hammer.

"Yours will do just fine," the Centipede-thing whispered, staring at the ancient weapon with hunger. It dropped into his awaitting arm, and, though he wasn't its wielder, drummed with earth-shattering power.

Xavius' eyes burned with fury.

"…Such strength," Cris' voice carried a twinge of awe now. "Never did I think I would be able to lift your weapon. My thanks," he licked his blood-stained lips, "my eternal gratitude for making it possible."

When the beast turned back to Ryce, she was disturbed by the mad anticipation in his eyes.

"Beheading has become stale anyway," he approached, readying the hammer. "Hold her."

There was no point, Ryce knew as others obeyed. She couldn't even move. She wanted to laugh at them for listening, make a quip about they'll never be able to get the messy stains out of their fancy clothes by standing this close, but even her mouth refused her, slurring nonsensical noise that they mistook for begging whimpers. She kept quiet after that.

With enough time, she would have healed. Now…

Now it didn't matter. Now, she found herself, prepped for slaughter, her face against cold granite, staring at the man who sat so straight, with hands too pretty and clothes too neat. Too perfect.

He'd always been like that though. But having him remain that way now, more interested in texting and his wine, clawed at her heart. She had _hoped_…Had he not _HEARD_ the things they said? Not seen the damn brawl that just broke out right in front of him? In the end, did he not care about the woman whose mere mention always sent him into a remote mindset? Did he not care about the daughter he'd taught and protected?

The fire in her eyes burned, the despair crushed.

…The love stung.

She wondered if it had been him. The envelope. The necklace. She could see it, resting near her face. Had he been the one to get it back to her? To show, in his small way, that he cared?

She was dimly aware that Cri'ssatiel was making a speech, leading the Council like a cult-leader to a virgin sacrifice. She tuned him out. She didn't care.

The enveloped had been addressed to 'Ryce.' Her father had never called her Ryce. He thought it was stupid to make up 'pretend names.' But, could it have been?

…In the end, she found it didn't matter. After all that had passed, all she'd been through, the tiny scraps of love that she may or may not be given were finally not worth it. They were not enough to overlook everything else. They were not enough. Even if part of her wanted them to be.

"…By the grace of the Council of the Judge, and my role as executioner," Cri'ssatiel was saying, raising the hammer.

_LOOK AT ME, GODDAMN IT_, she wanted to scream.

Azrael did. As if he heard her, his eyes locked with hers. Neither blinked.

"You are to be put to death."

If she was to fall, he would at least have the decency to watch. He would look her in the eye.

"And we are finally to be rid of your cancerous presence."

The hammer swung.

Azrael looked to the door.

Ryce's heart san—

And then the door slammed open.

Everything stopped, even the hammer, and in a crazy moment, Ryce pictured a younger version of herself bursting in to give her siblings the business. With her heart drumming against her ears, she realized that maybe the Council had been right to be pissed with her about that – it was just stressful, not to mention very rude.

But it wasn't her that stumbled in.

It was Marid.

"_STOP!_" he cried, panting – he had run a long distance, it seemed. "Stop, you can't do this!"

The Council of the Judge stared at the young incubus, baffled. Ryce felt much the same, but she couldn't voice it.

"What is the _meaning _of this, whoreling?!" Maerwynn shrieked. She was rooted in place, locked in the task of keeping Xavius bound, but her frustration was palpable. "_LEAVE. _This is not your place!"

Marid had been frozen in his spot, terrified by the many stares of beings that could destroy him with a whim, but Maerwynn's words colored his cheeks an ugly purple, and he plunged on, "T-The Lie Weaver has committed no v-violations 'gainst Father's rule. She s'i-innocent!"

He might as well have been speaking Japanese. Even Ryce didn't understand where this was going.

"Y-You can't kill her," Marid spoke in a frightened squeak.

"…Tourson," Cri'ssatiel finally said.

A muscular man, grotesquely so, like a cartoonish, hairless gorilla on steroids, looked to him.

"Rip his head off," he ordered, turning back to Ryce. "The execution continues."

Marid choked back a sob as the creature thundered towards him on powerful arms. He was almost upon him when the small cough stopped him.

Stopped them all.

At once, they saw Azrael. And how, for the first time since the beginning of the trial, he was truly paying attention.

"…._father?_" Cris hissed.

Azrael spared him a glance, but it was dismissive. Scolding, even. Instead he turned to the frightened Marid, who looked back at him in further terror.

Azrael clucked his tongue impatiently. The prompt to continue was obvious.

Marid sprang into action: "S-Self-defense! Your Law, Father – _Lest the malice finds you, ye will not act_."

"_Father, why do you allow these distrac_–" Cri'ssatiel snarled, his pincers clicking in agitation.

"_It was D'xias who attacked first!_" Marid yelled over him.

"You come to us with tales?!" Dead-Eye yelled, her hair flaring with her anger, burning into Xavius. "It was the Lie Weaver whom brought claw to D'xias!"

"_After _D'xias fiendishly threw a baby at her!" Marid yelped back.

This time there were no interruptions. The absurdity of that statement had left the council in silence. Even Ryce, who had been there, could only boggle at her brother's technically-true claim.

But it was she who said what they were all thinking, finally healed up enough to croak out a, "…what?"

"Babies are dangerous!" Marid insisted, glaring at her, as if she were being the absurd one. Perhaps she was, considering she was fighting against her 'defense'. "If D'xias had managed to hit you in the head with it, as was s-surely his malicious intent, unless you can find s-someone to say otherwise, it would have caused mas…massive b-brain trauma, if not outright kill you! You were in flight! You would have plummeted to your death!"

He looked to all the incredulous stares, and to his father, who, at least, seemed mildly interested in what he was saying. He took a deep breath.

"On…On the L-Law, the _Laws_ of the House of the Jud—the _Helper_," the incubus stammered, struggling to get the words exactly right, to parrot them back, "We are honor-bound to bow to the spirit of blood and caste – there s'no question: The Lie Weaver s'innocent. She must be free, and exalted for her triumph."

He panted, harder than he had upon arrival, and stared nervously at the assorted council. Over the course of his speech, their expressions had gone from surprised disbelief, to something much darker, much more terrifying.

"…Marid?" Azrael said, his seldom-heard voice making everyone jump, most of all Marid. "Approach."

Marid did, if hesitantly. Every eye was now on him, except, oddly, Azrael himself, who had opted to stare at his daughter, pensively. Even so, there was little doubt that the archangel saw, like everyone else did, the skittering manner in which the incubi walked. Frantic was the only word to describe it.

"…Fa…Father…" Marid whispered begging. Now that he had said his piece, the façade that had been his shield was breaking, and beneath it, the incubus looked feverish and mad. Concern and anxiety racked at him, and he could not stop twitching.

Azrael simply quirked an eyebrow. The message was clear: _Tell me why you are doing this, son._

"Father, please…" Marid stammered hoarsely, "please, j-jus' let her go. Shaytain…h-he's got him! He's got him, Father!"

Azrael tilted his head, his mouth twisting into an all-too-familiar smirk, "Heh. You're dismissed, Marid."

The panic in Marid's face increased tenfold, his eyes wide and bloodshot, making the handsome man look deranged, "Father, NO! I-I can't, _he_ _won't let him die, Father!_ _P-Please, jus' let the stupid bitch go!_"

Azrael looked at him.

His son flinched.

"I won't ask again."

The boy helplessly looked at him with watery, beady eyes, until he was forced to flee with his tail between his legs.

The door slamming shut echoed the room into silence.

"Hm…was that enough of a distraction for you?" Azrael asked.

"Yeah, I'd say so."

The voice sent a jolt through Ryce. It had come from beside Dead-Eye.

The woman's head snapped to the side as the clawed hand clamped down on her tendril-hair, its terrible lightning coursing through the appendage as the second hand clamped down on her chest.

She saw the peaceful, gold eyes last.

And then Dead-Eye was consumed in flame, chest reduced to ash. She was dead in seconds.

Adam Matthews stood in her place, shaking a singed, smoking hand.

"If she comes back to that, she deserves to kill me," Adam mused to the silent room.

"…_**YOU,**_" Maerwynn was the first to recover, going wild-eyed with fury. Her hold over Xavius faltered before she caught herself and reestablished it.

Adam ignored her, his eyes fixed on the girl in the block, who was frantically struggling to see him.

"…will there be no end to today's interruptions?" Cri'ssatiel hissed in frustration. "What _is _this?"

Saliend're stepped forward. "Lord Metestasnathean. The Morning Child," he said diplomatically, ignoring the furious hiss the name produced from Maerwynn. The others kept quiet, assessing the demon before them. "To what do we owe this…honor?"

Adam seemed to ignore him too, his eyes moving from Councilman to Councilman, pensively. His eyes lingered on Cri'ssatiel, and on the hammer, a tad longer.

"…Are you aware your children are crippled aberrations?" He asked Azrael conversationally.

The Archangel smirked, very slowly.

His children, save Ryce, did not share the sentiment, baring their furious fangs. Saliend're was becoming quickly aware of the fact that the stories were true: The Morning Child didn't negotiate. He was simply too stupid to.

"I beg your pardon, your Lordship…" the Philosopher tried.

"You're flawed by design," Adam explained. "Each and every one of you. It's like you were made from the start to have ingrained in you a fatal error. Like you were created to have an endlessly miserable existence. Your greatest strength is slowly killing you."

As one, the Council started moving, edging slowly to surround this stranger.

"I killed the jellyfish girl, for example," Adam continued, watching them lazily, "by redirecting her own lightning. Her body couldn't take the power her hair dealt. Have you ever heard of a lightning-wielder that couldn't handle the smallest shock?"

Cri'ssatiel's incredulity had died, becoming dark, amused chuckles as he gripped the hammer.

"You, you're easy," Adam nodded to him, "I bet you're always thirsty," the Centipede stopped laughing. The demon trailed a hand along his chin, mimicking the stains on the monster's mouth, "That's why you drink the blood, isn't it? Just for some semblance of quenching that mad drive. Wonder what would happen if all the moisture in the room vanished."

The Everdrought was now staring at him, a dead expression in his eyes. Ryce was forgotten.

"…Adam…" she whispered, trying to warn, to draw attention back to herself.

"You? …small penis," Adam said to Tourson.

The hulking behemoth actually stopped in his tracks, dumbfounded. Azrael laughed.

"You," Adam continued, looking at Maerwynn. The fae was rabid, twitching – it was impossible to tell if she wanted to run away or lunge her teeth into his neck. "You're probably always cold. Or it has something to do with your looks. You have that sort of haughty expression that comes from it. Maybe it's both. Have we met? You're staring at me in a way only people that have met me do."

"_**The Morning Child broke my mother,**_" Maerwynn hissed shrilly, her ice cracking, her fury incomprehensible.

"Ah…" Adam nodded, a memory coming to him. "Right. Well, she _was _a whore, with a gaping vagina."

The ice cracked, splintered all over. Maerwynn's semblance of humanity was nearly gone, replaced by a remoteness that matched the most unforgiving of snow storms.

And the Morning Child smiled for it, "It's a sad existence," he added quietly. "To be born that way. To be made so that anyone could see you," he faced the rest, so close to him now, "and easily figured out the easiest way to kill you."

Saliend're found his voice first. "…Are we to understand, Lord Metestasnathean–"

"Met's fine."

"–that you came here simply to tell us that?"

"Hm? No. I'm just making small talk. I'm here for my munchkin," he nodded to Ryce.

"…**What?**" Cri'ssatiel's tone changed, his dead expression giving way to danger.

"Well, you heard what your local hyena said: She's innocent, you have no way around that," Adam said, gently. "Let her go."

"The beast's testimony was nothing. Not worth our ears," Cri'ssatiel snarled. "It was _you _who orchestrated it, was it not?"

Adam tilted his head.

"And you would think to enter upon this ancient house and murder one of our own, with no retaliation?!"

"This _was _retaliation," Adam replied. "The House of the Helper took one of mine and dragged her unto unjust trial. Of course I would respond with flame. We all would."

"_**THE MAGGOT IS NOT OF THE HOUSE OF NATHEAN!**_" the Everdrought thundered.

"I took her in. That's debatable," Adam said quietly. And then, he grinned, "we could have another trial to decide it if you wish."

"_**NO! NO MORE TRIALS. THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN OVER LONG AGO!**_" the monster lifted the hammer towards Ryce.

"_STOP,_" the voice of the Morning Child washed over them, "I can tell you one reason why you shouldn't do t–"

The hammer swung down.

And then with a confused roared, it ripped from Cri'ssatiel's hand.

Into Xavius'.

"Rude," Adam muttered. "Very rude."

Maerwynn shrieked at the sight, and her tattered ice chains shattered in the confusion, as she scampered to get away. The other two weren't as lucky: They chose to tighten the grip of wood and darkness, and Xavius broke through it like tissue paper, killing them instantly.

"Worm," the First Soldier spoke, renewed power rolling off of him. "You want my power?"

Cri'ssatiel's confusion didn't last. He lunged for Ryce's prone form.

"Take it."

The lightning, more powerful and concentrated than anything Dead-Eye produced, rocketed the Everdrought, crashing in a heap of snarls and curses.

Adam, in the meantime, used the confusion to slide past the Council that surrounded him, plucking Ryce up and holding her protectively against him.

"…Hi…" Ryce whispered, smiling tiredly. "This has been a trip," she confided.

Adam smiled back, as the Soldier descended next to them.

"So like I was saying," the demon said loudly, "a good reason not to move against her would have been to remember that four of your own were pouring all their power into keeping the most powerful of your midst contained. When one suddenly, ah, stops, and one of the others' own ability is crippled over their mother issues, well…" he smiled at Maerwynn's ragged breaths, at how she stared at him. The resemblance to her mother was certainly there. "It's only a matter of time before your captured overwhelms them. Especially if you give them time to gather his power by standing around and listening to some guy blab like a bunch of morons."

Ryce chuckled.

"This is perhaps not helpful," Xavius grunted, noting the fury these words sparked.

"…Adam," Ryce croaked. "…The Titans. Did you…bring them…?"

"No," he replied. "I figured you wouldn't want them to see this."

Ryce's shoulders sagged in relief. "…thanks."

Adam gave her a peck in the cheek, even as she pulled herself to her own, unsteady, feet.

"So what now?" She asked. "Second verse, same as the first?"

"I wouldn't think so, no," said the voice behind them.

Azrael.

"This has gone on long enough, I think," he said with a lazy smile, touching her shoulder.

"…father…?"

The archangel turned to the Centipede, his son struggling to recover.

"'Fraid this one's your loss, Cris."

"…_**FATHER!**_"

The last thing Cri'ssatiel saw before the four vanished was his father's amused smile.

* * *

"…What jus' happened…?" Ryce asked.

They were in a remote location in the Neither, with no shape, no sense of gravity, not even a smell. It was disorienting, and it didn't do her weakened constitution any danger.

Adam and Xavius' hands moved to steady her, and she smiled at them gratefully.

"I'd say a hell of a show," Azrael said simply.

The Soldier frowned at his father, and then turned away, tsk'ing.

"…A show," Ryce repeated. "This…dad…what?"

"I get really bored while waitin' for the new episode of _Grey's Anatomy _to come up," Azrael replied, in what was probably a sensible tone. "If your brothers wanted to throw a farce of a trial to try to get my permission to kill you—again—why would I deny myself the entertainment – again?"

"_Grey's Anatomy_."

"You were innocent, sure, but why not let it run s'course?" Azrael mused.

Alaryce stared at him. "…All my sufferin', the fights, _Xavius' _wounds…jus' so you could kill a few hours? _So you could watch us dance?_"

Her brother's hand on her shoulder stopped her before she could go further, quelled the building fury in her voice. Adam looked decidedly unsurprised, while Azrael watched her expression. She fought not to look down, when she asked. "…What would have happened if there had been no one to stop them all the times it was nearly over?"

The beat of silence, lingering far too long than she wanted to admit, unsettled her.

"I would have stepped in and stopped it, of course."

"…Of course," Ryce replied quietly. "Why _did_ you step in when you did?"

It was Adam who answered. "Isn't it obvious?" He looked to her. "It's 9, somewhere. _Greys _just started."

Ryce looked at him, tired. "…Time sucks around here."

Her dad smiled at her. It was a nice smile, "Something to say, princess?"

If she had been more rested, less tired, less bitter, she'd have shaken her head.

"…are you really goin' to jus' let this farce continue?" she asked her voice weary. "…S'what this is, dad…we all know that."

Like with Marid, all he did was raise his eyebrow, and she knew to elaborate.

"They'll feign their outrage….you'll feign your boredom…nothin' changes though. Nothin' ever changes."

"Oh princess, Things are always changin'."

Her eyes hardened and held his unflinching, "Aye. Like me."

This time she ignored Xavius' hand, the glittering of Azrael's eyes. She spoke.

"I stood up…and I changed because that s'the god damned point of being ALIVE isn't it?" she asked holding her hands out, "I took nearly eighteen years to stop waitin' to DIE. I see that now. S'sick. What those grovelin' idiots do in that room…how they fall at your feet like dogs s'SICK, dad."

Azrael's expression had gone carefully remote.

"Can't you SEE that!?" something small and desperate had begun to creep into her voice, "All I ever wanted…was to be something you could be proud of…And now, standin' here b'fore you I weigh the cost and worth of that pride. If becomin' like THEM is the price, then s'never goin' to be worth it."

Ryce sighed, drained. She was surprised she'd been able to get it all out. "Even if you hadn't helped me, I'd have said the same: I have done NOTHIN' wrong. They are the wrong ones. And, if you stand with them, so are you."

Silence fell upon them. Standing before her father in this tense and dangerous presence, neither made to look away from the other. It was the death god who broke the quiet, his voice soft and oddly comforting.

"Tell me, Luv…what exactly s'waitin' for you back there, that's made you see things this way?"

A moment of contemplation, her eyes cast down at her feet, before a small smile broke out over her face.

"Boundless human stupidity," she said her voice equally soft and aching with a strange fondness he'd never heard.

* * *

"You have about twenty-seven seconds to tell us where she is you greasy creep, before you become a stain on our wall," Terra growled, her eyes beginning to glow subtly around the edges. Beside her Garfield let out a series of hissing clicks, certainly echoing her sentiment in the form of a utahraptor, one of his sickle claws tapping against the floor in anticipation.

Azrael frowned a bit and tilted his head at the couple. Neither met his eyes. A cursory glance around the room made Raven realize that none of them were. It was as if something innate warded them all away from doing so, some long ingrained instinct engraved into the still ever present lizard mind lurking in all of them. The archangel's daughter at times had a similar effect on them, usually when she was feeling particularly inhuman and strange. For all this pondering though, he gave no indication he had intention of answering their questions, threats, or demands. If anything he was smirking at them arrogantly.

"…s'this how you treat house guests?" the man murmured raising a brow as he looked about the room, ignoring their hostile stances, "Really…didn't you parents teach you lot better manners than this?"

There were no jokes from Rob, his voice an eerily atypical even tone, "Where. Is. Ryce."

"I do not know anyone by that name."

"Where is your daughter!?"

The angel's mouth curved into a deepened grin, "I have quite a few of those. They're a bit too old for you though Mr. Candide."

"You know what man? I've had enough of your crap," Cyborg growled, his step forward accompanied by the whirring hum of a loading cannon, "Tell us what you've done to Alaryce or I'm gonna see how many holes I can put in that cheap suit of yours."

"…hehe...holes….holy…Angel. That s'cute. Are you sure Candide s'meant to be the funny one?"

Cannons charged, weapons were unsheathed, words were muttered and growls snarled. Yet, through it all Azrael just grinned his arrogance out over them, looking like an overgrown child winning at a game of keep-away. Eyes twinkling with mischief that sang 'I know something you don't know' even as they readied their attack. This was a mistake. Raven already could see that. She could feel the power emanating off of him, burning faintly around her like standing before a flaring grill.

"S'there ever a time when y'are not PAINFULLY obnoxious Da'?" a tired voice murmured from behind them, echoing Tim's words back.

Azrael's smug smile softened as he looked beyond them, "Or perhaps it should be, s'there ever a time when _**they**_ are more concise and ask more specific questions. M'an old man princess, I cannot be expected to jus' KNOW what they mean when they're so insufferably vague."

One by one the Titans dropped out of their battle stances and reeled about to see the source of the familiar voice. Ryce sat bonelessly atop the counter, supporting herself on her remaining arm. Their gift to her hung limp at her side swaying this way and that whenever she shifted her weight. Exhaustion laced through her face as she smirked back at them, her left eye sporting a fresh bruise, the flesh around swelled unpleasantly. Had she conventional sight in that eye it would be all but blinded by the shiner.

"RYCE!" It was Starfire who broke their shocked silence. Nigel was the first to break rank and dash over to the counter and, pointedly ignoring her grumbles and eye rolling began to check the girl for wounds. Unfortunately, the doctor was only given a few seconds before he barreled out of the way by the remained of his team as they rushed forward. The moment became a blur of conversations, questions, sighs of relief, and too-tight hugs all directed at the clearly overwhelmed teenager who did little more than grin back tiredly and shake her head.

"Are you okay?"

"What happened?"

"How'd you hurt your eye?"

"Scrambled or over-easy?"

They group of them fell silent and turned to stare at Metatron as he carefully shouldered his way into the middle of the group to stand closer to Ryce. Noting the stares he was receiving with something close to surprise, he shrugged and hopped up unto the counter beside her.

"Well I know the answers to all of your questions and I wanted to be part of this too…"

Tim opened his mouth to return to questioning the half-angel, noting that Met's interruption had the unintended effect of quieting the barrage that had been aimed at the girl. Before he could get a word out, he was interrupted by Victor's exclamation of, "What the hell happened to you?!"

It was not directed to Ryce, however. No, it was reserved for the battered behemoth that had appeared behind them. If Ryce's eye was ugly, the purple and yellow knotty mass that was Xavius's orbital socket (maybe even the entire side of his face) was horrendous. Dried blood caked the entire side of his neck, running down the ruins of his military jacket in a dark tide. The armor his uniform showed in flashes of silver as he moved revealed dents and scratches and what appeared to be burns etched into the metal.

For his injuries however, he didn't appear to be faltering too much upon his feet when he turned to his father. His voice was a bit rougher than when they last heard him speak. Then again, he didn't have a healing neck wound to contend with at the time.

"The Council has adjourned to their respective realms."

Whatever that meant appeared to be good news, a small smile lighting Azrael's face, "Ah, good. Did they give you any more lip?"

The Marine grunted lifted something long, and segmented from his side, "Not lip."

Horrified and revolted looks overcame the heroes' faces in a wave as the limb splattered to the ground with a wet crunch. One or two looked vaguely close to being sick. Only Ryce and Metatron remained unaffected by the sight and sound it made. Met was far more interested in pressing a warm hand against a small patch of what looked like frost bite on Ryce's neck. Ryce was too busy staring at her older brother in apparent shock.

"Did…Did you jus' make a joke?" she sputtered.

The Marine arced a grey brow at her expression.

"You jus' made a joke!"

Azrael wrinkled his lip in revulsion at the sight and shook his head. With meticulous care he stepped over the insectoid leg, avoiding the splatter and made his way over towards his daughter.

("Adam, he made a JOKE.")

"Xavius…you will give your brother his leg back when we get home do you understand me?"

("Did anyone else _**hear **_him!?")

If the Marine heard him, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, using his massive height, he reached over the assembled group and slapped something wet and dark purple across Ryce's yellowing eye. It was quite effective in breaking her out of her shocked ramblings, and for someone who had hours ago been eating meat raw she made an interesting gagging sound at the contact.

"Do not eat it," he grumbled placing a slab of the same mottled looking meat over his own wounded eye.

"Why WOULD I? Oh god, this thin' smells," she choked, noting the way her friends wrinkled their noses in disgust and backed away, "…what s'this thin', X?"

For a moment the Marine looked down at her stonily, "…We will call it a 'steak.'"

"It has green stripes in it," Garfield murmured queasily.

"So did its owner."

Azrael had approximate point zero five seconds to snatch Xavius's Marine hat from his head and hold it under Ryce's chin before she unceremoniously vomited into it.

"Least it wasn't your shoes this time," he cringed, letting Metatron take hold of the hat and rub the girl's back as he backed away, rubbing his hand against his jacket as if to clean unseen filth away.

They gave her the few moments to collect herself. Another few minutes after that, her family members had forced the congealed looking "steak" back unto her injury. Once more silence had fallen unto the odd gathering.

Tim, ever the leader, took charge, "Ryce, what happened?"

"M'fine…s'fine…walked in, talked it out, made it home in time for cake. Diplomacy works wonders," she tried to get out even as Azrael snorted from beside her

"You started a riot in my nicest hall, young lady," he reminded her.

Ryce lifted the steak from her eye a bit to cast him an incredulous look, "…Jesus, Dad. You need to hire a decorator. The twins still stalkin' that interior design major?"

"No…poor dear. Seems he was mauled by komodo dragons or wolves of some sort."

"…Ah yes the komodo wolves that roam the wilds of SoHo in their skinny jeans with daddy's credit card," Ryce frowned and let the stripy meat splat back unto her aggrieved eye, "You need to get a handle on them."

"…I can't help it that they get jealous of one another, Alaryce," Azrael let out a long suffering sigh, "Nor can I deny them their due if a mortal is stupid enough to be in between them in knowin' what they are."

"Too much detail, Daddy," Ryce shuddered, pulling the steak away from her eye. Nigel's quick inspection left the doctored in bemusement. After clearing away the residue the repulsive slab left behind, the maid's skin, though still a touch tender and discolored no longer swelled the eye shut.

"So…are you okay now?" Rob finally voiced what they were all thinking.

"I doubt my daughter has ever been classified as 'okay' in any form of the word," Azrael murmured from several feet away. The Titan's turned to find the archangel eyeing his daughter's birthday cake with intent, the dark haired woman from earlier – the one who took Ryce - standing at his side with her hands stuffed into her pockets. Even as his hand could so much as twitched up towards it, she lifted one of her own and gently slapped it back down.

"No thanks to you, Whom God Helps….and that isn't yours," the dark haired teenager informed him.

"No thanks to me?" he narrowed his eyes, his tone one of deep offense, "Who, pray tell, jus' cast judgment in her favor riskin' unrest beyond comprehension in his ranks? Who raised a sickly baby in less than ideal circumstances to be this beautiful, albeit questionably insane woman, you see before you? Hm?"

"Alaryce's survival is in spite of your care…not because of it," the dark haired woman at his side sighed with a smirk up at the archangel.

"Oi! I take the highest of offense to that!"

"You take the highest of offense to everything 'Rael, because you are an unmitigated pain in my ass."

"Feh," he grumbled, waving a hand at her in clear dismissal as he turned and stalked away from her, "You and your incessant naggin' woman."

"So…in all that babbling did your dad ever say whether or not you were okay?" Rob asked Ryce, shaking his head as she began to laugh.

"I had my trial," she explained, "…I was found innocent."

"How?" Terra asked blankly before she could stop herself. Taking note of the dry look it earned her, she rolled her eyes, "I'm not saying we're not HAPPY you did but…seriously how?"

"One of my sons expressed concern for his baby sister and stepped forth with a stellar defense of her clearly provoked actions s'all. D'xias attacked her first. Ali had ev'ry right to defend herself against him," Azrael shrugged.

The air seemed to shift in the room, become dense and drop for a moment. The space beside the archangel thickened and darkened stretching and twisting into a man shape. In an instant one of the twins appeared in its place, poison green eyes narrowed upon the half-demon sitting beside Ryce, "Where s'he?!"

"Indeed," Azrael simpered, "I believe you have somethin' of my son's."

"Ah, yes," Adam clapped his hands. "For you see, Marid, to get your brother, all you had to do, was sit down…and have a conversation with me."

And then the timer on the kitchen safe went off, and it slowly swung open.

"Tu-runt-tun! Tu-runt-tun-tun, tu-runt-tun!" the demon hummed as Shaytain fell out of the safe, moaning. Marid yelled in relief and quickly went to him. "Tu-runt-tu—ow!"

"You need to stop watching Saw II," Ryce sighed, having smacked him, "…seriously, Adam s'in…such bad taste right now."

Shaytain...it was difficult to describe. He seemed unharmed, but pale, and unconscious. Twitching every so often. But…it didn't really seem like he had reason to. The whimpers got to Marid, and he glared venomously at Metatron.

"Son," Azrael murmured in warning. Marid ignored him.

"Alaryce…" Marid purred, not looking away from him, "You really should be thankin' me, li'l sister. I rather came through for you back home…suppose we can jus' forget what happened with Y'mael yes? Bygones be bygones?" something in his eyes flashed and seemed to try and tug at Met "What do you say?"

For a few moments Ryce just stared at her brother through narrowed eyes. Before anyone could so much as blink a shade surrounded her right arm and then that arm had plunged a fork from the counter all the way to the hilt in Marid's skull. The ash dropped to the floor like dead weight the fork clattering noisily

"Sure," Ryce smiled icily at said pile even as many of her friends gaped at her in horror.

"He'll get back up! He's not dead!" Nigel sputtered out quickly, trying to keep the others from acting on the fact that their maid just apparently committed cold-blooded murder right in front of them.

Azrael chuckled, touching the shivering Shaytain. "Suppose it's time to go home."

In a haze of ash, both him and his brother's remains vanished.

"…I need a drink. Noel's right, m'too sober to handle today," Ryce sighed hopping down from her place on the counter and making her way to the fridge.

"You are eighteen. Get away from that beer," Tim glared.

"Eighteen s'like thirty in angel years."

"No, it isn't,"Azrael smirked.

"…Thanks for helpin' dad."

The archangel sighed looking over at his youngest with soft fondness as she rummaged through the fridge, "You've come a long way, princess. No longer that li'l thing who used to sit under my desk and watch her precious heroes…when she was SUPPOSED to be working mind you."

They could hear the smirk in her voice as she continued her foraging, "I got my work done…s'my free time!"

Azrael laughed at her flippancy, shaking his head as he reminisced, "Yes, yes…I remember…you were 'bout eleven or twelve and you used to sit there watchin' away. Hour after hour, cheering on the heroes who couldn't hear you. It was so adorable…you had the biggest crush on the white-haired one…"

A majority of the Titans winced at the sound of Ryce's head crashing into the shelf above her after that.

"These are lies," came the inhuman growl from within the fridge.

"They are," Azrael acknowledged, seemingly content to embarrass his daughter. He fell quiet for some seconds, before he looked to the young heroes. "You…the white-haired one with the mommy issues."

("Dad!")

Azrael ignored his offspring and graced Savior with an appraising, if not slightly condescending, look.

"I must say…the manner in which you confronted me over Al – _Ryce's_ – condition was impressive. You certainly have balls, human. That being said…" without skipping a beat he turned his attention away from the meta's eyes, falling on the woman at his side, "Demon? Your mate talks to me like that again and I will rip them off and feed them to wild swine."

"…your diplomacy is startling," Savior said flatly.

"So s'your claimin' to be straight in that get-up but I digress," Azrael sauntered over to the fridge, "How's your head my love?"

"Dented…like the fridge shelf," Ryce growled, wincing as Kory gently placed a back of ice upon her crown.

"You really SHOULD be more careful" he tsked.

"Uh…Mr. Gallagher?" Beast Boy asked. With his back turned to the group as it was, they missed the dark flare that went through the man-thing's eyes at being refered to as such. By the time he turned, it was gone, replaced with is ever present charming smile.

"Please Garfield, call me Azrael. No need for such formalities."

"…Yea, okay um," he frowned glancing at his teammates for a moment faltering in his resolve, "That is…well…we're super stoked you didn't try and kill Ryce, don't get me wrong. But…now what? I mean, does she go home? Go back to…well…"

"To being treated like crap by you and the rest of your shitty excuse for a family," Noel grated, having no problem with not beating around the bush about it. Garfield's face visibly cringed with the lack of tact he had been trying to convey.

"God above woman, I can see why you are in love with this man," Azrael murmured to Raven dryly, "He s'jus' SO personable and pleasant."

"The pot just called the kettle black so hard it's now starring in a Shaft remake."

"The kettle would do well to remember if I _**wasn't**_ pleasant, I would be returnin' its maid in a zip lock, sandwich baggie, instead of one talkative, _breathin'_ piece."

"The Pot will do well to remember that if it hadn't, we would be in the process of tearing its realm down around its ears," Noel took a step forward, voice dropping into a growl.

Azrael matched it, his voice falling into something equally dark and cold, "Oh, you would have tried and I assure you Collins it would have been _**adorable**_."

"Ladies, ladies…you're both pretty. I kinda would like an answer to Gar's question m'self," Ryce cut in, going so far as to step in between the two before the fists began to fly. For a moment, it didn't seem she had interfered in time, both the Meta and the death god sneering and glaring at the other without so much as blinking at the small teenager before them.

"...Daddy," Ryce frowned, something imploring and at the same time, warning in her tone, "Tell me what's gonna happen now. What comes next?"

The threatening posture was replaced quickly by annoyance, the yellowing blue eyes snapping down to acknowledge her for a moment. His dismissal of Noel was loud and clear when he turn to her fully, "Well, s'not like they're all goin' to forget what happened t'day, Alaryce. If you thought the tensions to be high b'fore you left...aft'r what you jus' pulled they're no long jus' hatin' you. You made sure they'll fear you, too. The kind ones will kill you on sight."

"...No one on the Council s'kind."

"Exactly."

"And what does that mean for, Ryce?" Victor asked.

Ryce swallowed dryly, trying hard to not let her eyes betray her fear to her friends when she glanced around at them. She did not fare as well in keeping the bitter edge out of her tone, "So it didn't matter? I get to have Xavius followin' me twenty-four-seven for the rest of my life at home? Confined in my room like a prisoner if I don't have a guard?"

Azrael lifted a brow and gave a derisive snort startling her out of her resentful spiral, "Your brother is **not** your hand maiden, love. He was a loan because you showed me you couldn't be trusted. He has work to return to and you are far too old for a babysitter.

"Frankly," he shrugged, leaning back against a counter lazily, "I do not have the time or inclination to follow you around for the rest of your life. It was a pain in the arse b'fore when you were a child. Now? It'll be all encompassin' to keep your brothers and sisters from skinnin' your scrawny hide. _**You**_ made a right mess of things t'day, girl and _**you**_ will be the one who bears the consequences."

The harsh scolding brought forth the expected protests from the heroes around her. Even as she flinched and looked down to the floor to avoid eye contact they were shifting and grumbling.

"Do you seriously not understand or hear how much of an asshole you sound like right now?" Noel his tone ice.

"You can't just leave her to them," Sophie chimed in her voice hardened and eyes tense.

"I can do whatever I damn well please, actually" Azrael shrugged, "And what I damn well please s'for her to take her crap and get out."

He didn't so much as wait for her to flounder her jaw uselessly without sound. No sooner than Ryce had jerked her cringing gaze up from the floor, the archangel was depositing a cardboard box into her arm. Numbly, Ryce gaped down into it. Her violin. Her books. Her pictures. A toy model of the very Tower in which she stood. An ancient gameboy. She thought of all the glitz and wealth that collect dust in the splendor of her room in the Neither. The multitude of lavish thing she had so often never had any use for. Just shiny junk that sat upon shelves to twinkle without purpose. None of those "treasures" were in the box, every last bit of it coming from her place under the floorboards.

Ryce fumbled with the box only able to hold it with one arm. Kory quickly stepped forward to balance the other end with one hand, the faltering causing the contents within to shift. A clatter sent a picture toppling from its side to lay flat on top of the pile. Glancing down and then back up to her father, Ryce was still too flabbergasted to do much as than uselessly bob her mouth opened and closed.

"Alaryce Fionnabhair McBride Gallagher," something in the Angel of Death's tone struck them all silent. Few noticed Ryce visibly flinch as if struck at the utterance of one of those names, "For your mockery of my Court…for the unrest you have caused within our realm…you are no longer a welcome guest in my halls. You are exiled not from your duties, but from calling my hearth haven or home. If you should return to the Neither from which you were birthed, it will be without my approval or protection. Naught a hand will be raised to shield you from their hunt."

Ryce stared up at her father silently.

It was in this silence that Azrael's attention shifted. His eyes fell upon the box in her arm and more importantly on the picture that had tumbled into view when she had nearly dropped it. The framed had been long ago mended, he could see clearly where it had been cracked and glued back together by unskilled by loving hands. Behind the glass, also not the original for the frame, was a photo of a pretty blond woman whose hair hung in a thick cascade of curls. She was in her twenties and did favor much in the way of make-up, her own natural complexion seeming better without it. Petite and curvy, she was all but swallowed by the tall man embracing her from behind, resting his face against the crook of her neck. It was making her laugh, making her nose and eyes crinkle in a way that she'd never know would be passed down to her daughter.

Azrael looked...nothing like the man standing there in front of the Titans. Clad in a plaid button down shirt, his carefully styled hair was laying about his head in a soft looking, bed-head jumble. The naturally messy look managed to make the shock of white running through it far less noticeable amongst the inky black. Not looking directly at the camera, his face was turned into the woman's neck to rest his lips against her skin, pulled back into a barely-there toothless smile. He looked at peace. Soft. The Archangel of Death looked blissfully and obliviously happy with the laughing woman in his arms.

"...where did you get this?" Azrael asked his child, expression unreadable.

Silence followed. Whether or not Ryce would be answering was not immediately apparent as she stood before him. It was a strange sight for the Titans to see her so mollified, so close to maybe even ashamed when Ryce was ever anything but completely unabashed. Her voice finally came to her in a soft, child's whisper.

"Years ago. I was eight. You...you threw it at Saliend're and it broke. You were so angry that I thought I'd fix it for you and bring it back when you calmed down…but…well…"

A swift glance at his eyes and his silence beckoned her to go on.

"…I didn't have any pictures of her," Ryce's cheeks flared with color under the weight of her friends and her father's stares. With a cringe and glance to Starfire, she wordlessly thanked her as the princess took the full weight of the box into her arms. It was easy to see how Ryce hesitated to reach in the box and pull the picture out. It was all the more obvious when she actually was handing it back to her father, "I know I should've given it back. M'sorry if you've been looking for it. I jus' wanted…I jus' thought…"

Her sputtering trailed off, as he looked down at the frame in her offering hand. Soon her words altogether died. For the longest time Azrael did little else than stare at the picture. By the time his gaze had made its way up to meet her eyes, the silence had become unbearable thick and oppressive. Hot like the blush of embarrassment on the girl's face as she admitted to her theft. Azrael stared at her at first as a stranger, than as something else, an indefinable flicker curling into his eyes. His hand finally reached up from his side and cupped her own curling it around the frame for her gently.

"No. No this is yours," he whispered ," he whispered and with this, it hit her. He had cast her out.

He had cast her out.

Ryce flung her arm around her father's neck and embraced him as tightly as she could, the arches of her feet straining her onto her toes to reach.

"T-thank you…"

Without preamble, he curled his arms around her and returned the hug just as strongly, "…Make this place your home, princess."

There was no grand exit, no flash or bang. One minute, Ryce stood with her arm around her father hugging him as if she would never let go, and then the next she was stumbling into the place he once stood. All that remained in the archangel's stead were a collection of molted feathers, a rainbow of kinds and colors. They fluttered up into the air briefly as Ryce's off balanced shuffle disturbed them. Then they settle back to the floor silently. No one spoke…they just watched her watching them. In the end, it was Rob who broke the eerie quiet.

"…It already is. You know that right?"

Ryce jumped a bit, startled out of her reverie. As if she had forgotten they were all there staring at her. Blinking, she looked back to her friend and tilted her head in askance.

"Your home," the other blond clarified as the others began to nod in agreement, "It already is."

Ryce could only give a watery smile, wiping at the sting in her eyes with mock irritation, "For as long as you'll have me."

"Indefinitely it is then," Nigel grinned.

Tim was quick to cut in, "So long as you stay out of the damn air vents."

"…I make no promises, Drake."

"...Ry-"

"Cake time!" Garfield enthusiastically interrupted the leader's exasperated sigh.

"Make sure tubbo doesn't stick her fingers in the frosting."

"I could just stick your face in it."

Noel shook his head as the imminent bickering between the blond and brunette once more began. At this rate they'd get the cake out and the candles lit somewhere around his birthday, four days from now. Glancing up a bit he found the birthday girl sitting back on her countertop, hand resting in her lap. Once more, she had fallen into a contemplative quiet, ignoring the yammering going on around her to instead observe. Following her gaze wasn't particularly hard. Especially when his own was drawn to the man anyway as he cut through his teammates bickering with a click of his fingers, setting the candles on the cake alight with a popping flare.

It came out before he could stop himself, quiet enough for her ears alone, "You should tell him…"

Ryce's thoughtful look faltered for only a moment, the barest of downward tics at the corners of her lips. Her gaze eventually twitched away from watching the chaosling to draw to Noel. There was sadness to the smile that formed on her face. A bone-deep weariness interlaced with what her eyes scream to be fruitless hope.

"S'never that simple."

"…it can be, if you're not stupid about it."

She only laughed and shook her head. If there was anything else to say, the singing and glow of the candles cut them off. Using Noel's arm for support and balance, the half-angel slid down from the counter.

"Happy birthday to you."

Ryce looked at them all, eyes half lidded and content

"Happy birthday to you."

She drew away from Noel to stand on her own two feet and smiled.

Light. Warmth. A lingering headache from the blow to her eye.

"Happy birthday, dear Ryce..."

That wasn't always my name. It is now though.

"Happy birthday to..."

There was someone to her left, holding her left hand; she could feel his claws against her palm.

"...you."

* * *

There had been cake and there had been laughter. There had also been a spell where Ryce felt the room falter and tip around her as her exhaustion set in. The festivities had been winding down anyway, and it HAD been a long day for her. It had been why she had slipped off away from her own party without much of a word. Why she was now closing the door to her room. The cool dark enveloped her once more. On her nightstand her alarm clock blinked its green numbers back at her signaling that it was later afternoon. A few hours had past since she left. A few long grueling hours.

And everything had changed.

It was with a dizzy stumble she made her way over to the outlet in the wall. She missed the mark the first few times before the prongs of Cyborg's custom made charger finally struck home. Falling backwards onto her bed she had to struggle for a moment to remove her new arm from her shoulder so she could plug it into the charging port. Instantly cool air hit the remainder of her shoulder, the loss of weight on her left side making her list slightly. No matter. She let gravity and her leaning take their course and toppled unto her bed. If nothing else she had most certainly earned herself a birthday nap.

**"And all you require is a Hemingway novel."**

Ryce did not so much as crack open an eye as she answered the disembodied voice coming from the Orb and game board, "First the height jokes…now the handicap ones. Dear lord, Richard your sudden sense of humor is a bit 'disarmin'."

**"That was painful…"**

"Stop talkin' to me when m'getting' over head trauma, then…in fact, jus' stop talkin' to me. Pretty please?"

**Nice trick. What you did. Really," **he continued, adding after a moment**, "Do you think it will be without consequence?"**

"Silly me...thinkin' losin' a limb is s consequence. Where s'my head? How's your stomach by the by? Get that sword out of it yet?" she began to grin even as she forced herself up again.

"**You should have just accepted the consequences, child. Because now...things will be so much worse."**

With a quirked eyebrow, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, sitting before the game and moving one of her pieces, "Hm...bein' dead or havin' your metaphorical hand up my ass like some deranged muppet would would kinda suck, Ricky. No offense, you jus' have a terrible track record with minions."

For a moment there was only silence. Finally, one of his pieces shifted forward "...**heh**.

"**There are worse things than death or slavery, child**. Far worse. **Have you forgotten why you came to me in the first place? You tried to have your cake and eat it too. You were a Trojan horse that refused to do its job."**

"Maybe that was the plan all along? I did win if you remember," she frowns at his piece, eyes flickering over the board in concentration.

"**And what have you won?"**

Ryce refused the shudder that tried to run along her spine, her own scream up on the roof as she broke echoing back at her in his question, "Time…unlike you, fellow Lie Weaver...m'not afraid to die. I jus' have some things to do first."

He seemed to consider her answer for a moment before continuing, "**Very well then. What have you lost in the past that you have now?**

…**and ****who have you greatly enraged, child**?"

Ryce could feel the smile forming on her face as she mapped out her moves, "...I lost and now have a family. M'sure the benefits of this are lost upon you so I wont waste my breath. As for who have I enraged?" she paused in her strategizing to look into the Orb without batting an eye, "No one and nothing of great importance...'cept in their own minds M'sure."

She finally let her left eye glow and watched as a pawn slid forward, "'Sides...m'more interested in who I've greatly terrified."

**"...you dismiss me**," there was an edge growing in that tone she was sure of it, "**A fool's mate**."

"Not dismiss...jus' amused by," she looked as if she could barely contain her laughter, "I learned the difference between sloth and efficiency, I suppose."

"**Enjoy your time, then. You more than anyone should know how little sand remains in the hourglass**," he was not nearly as talented at sounded bored as he assumed he was.

"...in certain glasses most definitely" she grinned, tilting her head at the Orb as she waited his move, "...are you always so enthralled with things that scare you Richard?"

"**Everyone who has ever built anywhere a new heaven, first found the power thereto in his own hell**," and the Lord of the Night made his move.

She saw it in an instant. She saw it before he did. Triumph and dread roared up in her chest and a maniac's smile graced her face, "I've seen hell, Ricky...yours especially...you're not back there quite yet.

"Checkmate…"

"…**What**?"

"Checkmate. I won."

For a moment, the room fell into an otherworldly stillness. Within the Orb, the black pulsing swirls had even ground down to an unsettling halt. The only thing that moved was the sliding of Ryce's piece into spot, sending the black king first to falter, then to fall from the board.

**"...heh...heh...heh..."**

It never reached the floor, the entire board exploding upward and clear across the room in a fit of black flame. Still, the half-angel smiled, watching the artifact in amusement. She carelessly lifted her hand to pat away a flicker of errant flame from her shirt, with the air of scaring off a bug.

**"DO YOU THINK YOUR GLIB DISMISSALS WILL SERVE AS ARMOR THEN, CHILD? DO YOU THINK YOU UNDERSTAND ME AT ALL? UNDERSTAND FEAR? UNDERSTAND _HELL_? . I WILL REDUCE YOUR PRECIOUS HEROES TO THE GIBBERING ANIMALS THEY TRULY ARE DEEP INSIDE. ONLY THEN WILL I RIP THAT EVER-FLAPPING TONGUE RIGHT OUT OF YOUR HEAD AND SHOVE IT BACK DOWN YOUR THROAT. I ASSURE YOU, THE FINAL REGRET WILL BE YOURS.**

**"AND YOU WILL KNOW DAMN WELL_, __I GAVE YOU FAIR WARNING_."**

"I don't need armor to terrify you," Ryce snarled back instantly, her eyes contracting with her venom. Her mouth fell from manic, twisting into something quite cruel, making her looked frightfully like her father. Something alien and cold crept into her voice, filling it with black amusement, "You really cannot begin to fathom how insignificant you are yet, can you?

"...Do you REALLY think you can win these games with the likes of me, you little shit? I am a _**herald of death itself**_. You are goin' off the chess board…playin' in **my** realm. There are much worse things than monsters out Here. Out Here, you are NOT the big bad. You're the sniveling frightened child that I know you can be deep inside. That I have seen you be. Do you remember how you screamed, Ricky? I do. You were my lullaby…you were my lesson. You and Patrica and me and those eyes go way back to when you didn't even know your name. _When you were Nothing__._ When all you knew were your screams and her hands and her eyes…

"...so let me give YOU a warning, Nothing."

Ryce stared into the Orb, her eyes utterly inhuman, "You don't win. Do NOT go to war with me."

Silence came first. Cold and unyielding as the thing, the Other, that lurked behind Ryce's eyes. Immovable object meat unstoppable force. When he spoke again, his voice had grown soft, **"...you will yet learn, halfling.**

_**"You have never seen a war like me."**_

The black fell away from the Orb.

They were done here.

Striding over to the downed game set, she stamped out whatever smoldering remained. Yes, they were quite done, she thought, her left eye glowed subtly as she scooped the twisted debris up from the floor and into a trashcan. The rings behind her began to click and shift into place, spiraling their way. By the time the last ruined pawn had clunked down into the garbage, that connection was severed forever.

* * *

Noel really did know better than to ask questions. He had lived in this lunatic asylum – Pun most certainly NOT intended – long enough to know that sometimes you saw something and you just kept right on walking. Perhaps he was just in a good enough mood or maybe he had just gone momentarily insane. Whichever the reason, he paused his walk and stared at his two teammates as they both stood in the middle of the hall, heads twisted around to crane their ears up towards the ceiling.

"…I'll bite. What are y-"

"Shhhh!" Victor hissed, pressing a finger to his lips.

No sooner had he acquiesced to his friend's eloquent request did the white haired man hear the soft peel of music drifting through the hallway.

"Uh…anyone know where that's coming from?" Beast Boy frowned, looking up at the vent the melody was floating down from.

"I know this song," Cyborg murmured, "It's Fun. I think."

"Yea I guess," his green companion nodded, not usually one to find pure instrumental music entertaining, "What's the name of the band?"

"The band is Fun."

"I'm sure they are, but what's their _name?_"

"Their. Name. Is. Fun."

"Who's on first?" Noel interrupted with a mutter, more to himself than anyone else. If his teammates' blank looks were any indication, it was better that way. Twisting through the halls, the trio attempted to trace the source of the music. It took mere minutes to come across Robin, a similar look of confusion on his face as he headed for the stairs that lead up and out unto their roof. No one bothered speaking; they just converged into a larger group and followed behind him. There was no doubt the music was getting louder, the source fading from question, even before Tim pushed the door to the roof open. The string instruments trills flooded over them and into their home as they stepped out into the golden, hazy light of dusk. The air was warm, heavy with the approaching cool-down that came with the night after the sun had fully set. A text book end to a pleasant summer's day.

Metatron was the first one Tim noticed, lounging in his typical cat-like fashion, eyes shut as he sunned himself in the last remaining rays of the day. He was finally wearing pants, and looked oddly at peace, even more so then usual with his legs splayed out carelessly before him, shoes off, arms and hands crossed behind his head in a makeshift pillow. The hero couldn't help but wonder if this state had something – see: everything – to do with the young woman standing several yards away.

It was funny how even after living with her the past several, hectic months how there was still odds and ends that they seemed to miss about their newest housemate. Such as the fact that Ryce had much longer hair then any of them had ever realized. She never let it down from its intricate braids and clips enough to be noticed. Typical or not, she was without them now, a sheet of blond falling down her back, the ends of which went so far as to brush against the back of her upper thighs. Clad in a loose-fitting floor-length skirt and a tighter top, she was perched up onto the tips of her toes near the roof's edge, swaying aimlessly.

"Uh-Ry–" Cyborg started only for Noel to cut him off with a gentle shushing gesture. The cybernetic man then noticed her odd stance, the twitching of her right arm as she slid it back and forth fluidly. The unasked question was answered when one of her legs swayed out from beneath her, curling up into the air the toe pointed delicately. The slow twirl brought her body carefully about and away from the Tower edge, the light catching on a golden bangle wrapping about her ankle.

She was…remarkably good at the violin, Tim thought, watching as the slight girl played and danced along with her own music. That she could twist and sway about as she played without dropping a single note spoke volumes. Without effort and without deep focus, her soft, content smile mirrored her best friend's, and her eyes remained shut against distractions in the world around her. Including them.

But not Adam, he amended, watching as Ryce's movements brought her right up beside the demon, sure to trip over his prone form. The music rose to a swelling crescendo and her body twirled about in time, leg extended to hop over him with a wide margin, in a move that was all too natural to her eclectic dancing. With each step her smile grew, her feet carrying her away from them and the perhaps-slumbering demi-demon.

"Well, Some nights, I wish that this all would end…Cause I could use some friends for a change," Met mused in a gentle hum to compliment her music. His eyes, just barely open, seemed to glow with the same soft golden light playing along the sky right now, "And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again…Some nights, I always win, I always win…"

Quaking with laughter, Ryce's eyes finally fluttered open to look down at her friend. On and on she danced and played and locked eyes with the demi-demon. Then, with a final twirl and swipe of her bow the song had come to a close.

To say that the tiny blond had jumped out of her skin when Victor and Garfield began an over the top round of applause would have been an understatement.

"Eep!" she squeaked stumbling around on her bare feet, all signs of her previous grace very much gone. Realizing that her performance had gained an audience for a great deal of time she began to blush and in a child like motion hid the instrument and bow behind her back. Noel couldn't help but chuckle that, of all things, THIS was what the girl was embarrassed to be caught doing.

Obviously she heard him, returning the laugh with a smirk, "You could have jus' all slipped away. I'd never have known you were there."

Noel nodded, giving a shrug as Tim offered a hand to Metatron to pull him up from the ground, "Yea, I know, but I've been told that the polite thing to do when someone's making an ass out of himself or herself it to let them know you're watching them do it."

Ryce blinked at him for a moment. Then it bloomed across her face as a full smile as she made her way inside, sure to give him a sharp little jab to the shoulder with her right hand, "Jerk."

The door to her home's roof clicked softly shut behind them and the final peek of sun settled below the horizon.

* * *

_And I will hold on hope and I won't let you choke  
On the noose around your neck  
**And I'll find strength in pain and I will change my ways**  
I'll know my name as it's called again ~ Mumford and Sons"The Cave"_

* * *

Hello Reader. This is Terraine, or if you prefer Jacki The Woman in Black. I wanted to personally thank you for sticking with this story through to its completion. Many of hours of work and effort were put into this by Sloth and I.

But all things come to an end, for better or worse. Ryce's time and story with the Titans is one of these things. Sloth and I had many plans in the work for continued stories containing everyone's favorite little sociopathic angel, but we have chosen to put a majority of these away. There will still be occasional postings, but they will mostly be short in nature and lack the epic length plots like those seen in Endgame.

The reasoning for this sudden change of heart is a desire on both our parts for a place all their own for Ryce, Metatron, and our countless original characters. Therefore going forward our focus shall be on taking the future we had planned for them and giving it solely to them.

God willing, you may yet still see what destiny holds for these two…in their own books. When and If this day comes, I hope it exceeds any expectations this peek into our characters has formed. Thank you all again and farewell from myself, from Ryce, and from this asshole with the slicked back hair.

"Publishin' for the retarded…this should get interestin'," Azrael mumbles going back to his gameboy.

The End For Now.

* * *

Hey, this is Sloth—the co-writer you probably never heard about.

I'm going to go ahead and earn myself a bit of ire by saying: Thank GOD I don't have to write Titans anymore.

It's not that I don't have fond memories of the series…but this setting, I like to think, has outgrown them. I personally always felt they were a bit hammered in and not needed for the story…and that was probably evident in some sloppy writing.

My point is…it's time for Ryce and Met (and their friends, the ones truly made for them, to complement their characters and to grow on their own) to move on to their own story. Stories.

Ter and I have spent years thinking up of where their lives would lead.

I think what we have, it's worth hearing. It's worth reading. Worth publishing.

With this chapter, we leave fanfiction behind…and we move to professional writing. To our dreams of the future. And we will show you exactly what our minds can come up with, unrestrained.

Thank you, for all that have read Ryce and Met's story at this point.

It's not over.

It hasn't even begun.

Ryce and Met. Ter and I.

We are the stuff of legends.

We won't forget what we finished today. We will NEVER forget what we started.

Thank you. See you again.

-Sloth

October 9, 2012.

Today is the day your dreams begin.

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…the sun did not touch here. Ever. He had made certain of this. Made certain that his dark corner of a world that had not quite recognized his ownership yet, always remained as such. In his solitude, his seething was only interrupted by the quiet tinkering of the shards of crystal toppling from his clenched fist.

And then footsteps.

"Ungrateful li'l bitch isn't she?"

The Lord of the Night peered into the shadows, listening to the pattering of steps. Had he flesh, a chill would have rolled over him at curl to that voice…the sinister lit. Step by step…closer and closer. Then, the voice's owner stepped away from its dark sanctuary. That same cruel, maniac's grin that he had seen within the orb unfurled up at the shadow god.

Azrael tilted his head in a mock bow.

"…I have a proposition for you, Richard."


End file.
